


Hidden in the Shadows of the Throne

by VioletRoseLily



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, 16th Century CE RPF, The Tudors (TV), The White Princess (TV), The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2019-09-15 17:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16937358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletRoseLily/pseuds/VioletRoseLily
Summary: In a world where Elizabeth of Woodville flees with all of her children to France after her husband dies, Henry Tudor never claims the throne for his dynasty but that doesn't mean that the Tudors fall into obscurity. In fact their power is only second to the King.





	1. Friendship born from the ashes of rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward V returns to England after living in France in exile for three years. Henry Tudor deals with the outcome of choosing to defeat Richard III and give the crown back to the Yorks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a new story to wash away the foul taste of losing another account because some people can't seem to leave me alone.  
> Anyway, this story is basically both a Tudor and a Plantagenet story. Focusing on both Edward V, his brother and eventually when they are born Henry and Anne.

**_June 24 1486_ **

****

Everything had been so much more peaceful when his father was alive. Or at least that’s how King Edward remembered it. According to his half-brother, England was very much in turmoil in those days as well. His Uncle George had sought to steal the crown from his father and the Cousin War was still ongoing. However, Edward felt that at least back then, they had still had his father with them, his Uncle Richard stood by his side as his fiercest ally and the remaining threats to Edward’s throne were not kings nor princes.

But then in the three years that followed his father’s death, Dowager Queen Elizabeth Woodville had fled to France with her children, Uncle Richard had declared himself King of England and he had insisted that his nieces and nephews were illegitimate. It was Henry Tudor who had become Edward’s ally in getting his crown back from his traitorous uncle.

After spending three years in France, it was finally time to return to England to reclaim what was his and Edward, who was not even sixteen yet, was eager to fight for his birthright.

“Out of the question. You have no battle experience and you will only get yourself killed,” the Earl of Richmond said irritably, as if the mere idea of Edward riding into battle alongside him was completely stupid.

“Just because you are married to my sister does not give you the right to be rude to your king,” Edward snapped, appalled at Henry’s insolence.

When Henry arrived at the French palace and declared his loyalty to King Edward V, he and Elizabeth of York had fallen in love with each other. After Henry had sworn an oath in front of witnesses to renounce his claim to the English throne and that he would always be loyal to the House of York, Edward had given him permission to marry Princess Elizabeth of York pledging to make Tudor a duke once they returned to England.

“With all due respect, _Your Majesty,_ right now Richard is King of England and that won’t change if we don’t have experienced men winning this war. Besides, I promised Elizabeth that I would protect her brothers from harm,” Henry explained.

“Not to mention your family especially your mother would prefer you stayed alive,” King Charles VIII of France pointed out, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

Because they were the same age and they had both gained their thrones at a young age, Charles and Edward had become fast friends which was remarkable considering that their countries had been fighting for a century before England was distracted by their civil war.

Edward nodded at Charles’ words, his heart clenching at the thought of the members of his family that he had lost in the past six years. Most recently, his half-brother Richard  and the last two of his maternal uncles were executed by the so-called King Richard III.

“Now that we have established that Your Majesty will be staying in France until your uncle is defeated, let’s move on,” Henry said gruffly, clearly not wanting to waste any more time on something he viewed as trivial. “I know from my mother that both my stepfather and the Earl of Northumberland have agreed to switch sides and they will rally their troops against the usurper.”

“I am surprised that the Lady Derby has agreed to this considering her high ambitions for you. Does she think you will steal the crown from me once you have defeated my uncle?” Edward questioned with an undertone of suspicion. After all, once he disposed of Richard, what was stopping Henry from declaring himself King especially if Elizabeth gave birth to a boy?

“If I wanted you dead, I would let you ride in front of the army with a crown on your head as you are sure to get yourself killed,” Henry pointed out bluntly. “This war has gone on long enough. It’s time the Houses of York and Lancaster stood together instead of fighting each other.”

“As long as you don’t try to start the Hundred Year war all over again after defeating the usurper, I completely agree with that sentiment,” Charles jested with a smile, causing the two Englishmen to fix him with a rather annoyed look.

* * *

“It baffles me how your brother and King Charles are such good friends,” Henry remarked as he watched Charles and Edward practicing archery from the window of his and Elizabeth’s bedchamber. “One is paranoid, determined and serious while the other is easygoing, affable and childish.”

“I think it’s nice that it won’t be just Cecily who binds our two countries together,” Elizabeth said sweetly, thinking how wonderful it was that despite the fact that her Uncle Richard had declared her and her siblings illegitimate, King Charles had still insisted on marrying Cecily, even threatening to abdicate if his council refused to allow them to be wed. 

“We can only pray that our peace treaty is not broken by future generations,” Henry remarked as he sat down next to his knitting wife.

It wasn’t just the future generations of French Kings he was worried about. King Edward was due to marry Anne of Brittany once he had reclaimed his throne and the girl turned fourteen. Once he had sons with her, he would continue the Yorkist rule over England---something Lady Margaret Beaufort would be unhappy about as would the rest of the Lancastrian loyalists.

What if Henry’s sons with Elizabeth decided to follow their Lancastrian forefathers and try to unseat the House of York, causing yet another Cousin War? He meant it when he said he wanted to unite the cadet branches of the House of Plantagenet but his descendants might not be so willing to be peaceful.

“Henry, is everything all right?” Elizabeth inquired putting her knitting down and laying a hand on his arm.

“Everything’s fine. I’m just thinking about the upcoming battle,” Henry told her, his eyes traveling down to her belly and he put his hand on top of it. “I wish that I didn’t have to miss the birth of our first child.”

As if the child knew that he or she was being talked about, it kicked it’s leg against it’s mother’s belly, allowing Henry’s to feel a thump against his hand.

“Soon the three of us will be together in England,” Elizabeth assured him, kissing his cheek before she lightly touched her swollen belly. “Us and little Jasper or Margaret Tudor.”

The corner of Henry’s lips twitched upwards at the thought of honoring his beloved mother or the uncle who raised him. He would win the war and give Elizabeth’s brother back his crown. Then he, his wife and his children could live in peace.

His mother might think he should be king but Henry was perfectly fine being the Duke of Richmond and the King’s most trusted advisor. Not to mention, he would go down in history as the man who won the crown and had gave it to its rightful heir instead of keeping it for himself. He would be known as a kingmaker.

Unlike the unfortunate Earl of Warrick, Richard Neville the previous Kingmaker, he would not waver in his support, accepting that his place was beside the throne instead of on it.

* * *

  ** _August 9 1486_ **

****

By now, the ships carrying Henry’s army would have landed in Wales, provided that the seas were as calm as the river looked from behind the window of the French palace. If the seas were bad and the ships were lost at sea, Edward would never know. Anything could happen to his army and the King of England was helpless to do anything about it. He was a weak king who let other men do his dirty work.

“Ned, are you scared?” Dickon asked as he stood next to his older brother.

“Kings don’t get scared,” Edward replied, trying to sound confident. He was no longer a little boy anymore. He was almost sixteen-years-old and on the cusp of his manhood. His days of childhood innocence had ended the day his father died.

“We might be kings, Ned but we are human all the same,” Charles pointed out, as he stood on Edward’s other side. His expression oddly thoughtful.

“Mother doesn’t trust the Duke of Richmond,” Richard said suddenly. “She thinks he will betray us. But I think he loves our sister too much to do that.”

“It’s not just Elizabeth, Dickon, Henry’s been in the middle of our civil war before either of us were even born. While sometimes I can’t help but wonder if he’ll someday decide I’m not a worthy king, I do know that he truly believes that this war of England needs to end,” Edward explained.

“I won’t let that happen. If anyone tries to say you’re not worthy, I’ll fight them,” Richard declared, a determined look on his face.

Edward beamed at his younger brother. Although he knew they had other allies, there were times when he felt like it was just him and Richard against the world.

“I just wish that we would be back in England in time for your birthday, Dickon,” Edward remarked, wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulder.

“Oh, I don’t mind. It means we can have one last celebration in France,” Richard pointed out. “That way we won’t be so sad to say goodbye to everyone.”

“I can promise you both that we shall have a grand feast to send you off the night before you return to England,” Charles assured them. “A fitting reminder of how our two countries are now allies to the end.”

Edward smiled at his friend, realizing that he would miss the optimistic and jovial king when he was left for England.

* * *

  ** _August 30 1486_ **

 

It had taken a while for the news to reach France that the Duke of Gloucester was dead, his allies were imprisoned and it was time for the children of Elizabeth Woodville to return to England.

According to Edward’s half-brother, Thomas Grey, it was thought to be symbolic that Richard had worn his stolen crown to battle and when he was killed, it was taken from his head, ready to be returned to its rightful owner---once it had been properly cleaned of course.

Cecily and the heavily pregnant Elizabeth were to stay behind in France---although once her baby was old enough to travel, the soon-to-be Duchess of Richmond would return to England to be with her husband and family members.

When Edward arrived on the English shores, there was a crowd of people standing on the beach waiting for him.

Henry stood in front of the nobles who had fought against the usurper, holding St. Edward’s crown in his hands. He waited until Edward was standing just a few feet in front of him before he kneeled and held out the crown.

“Your Majesty, I believe this belongs to you,” he proclaimed, giving the teenager a rather warm smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace, you are a true knight of the realm,” Edward stated gravely, trying to suppress the gleeful side of him.

The Marquess of Dorset took the crown from Henry and placed it on Edward’s head. “Behold the true King of England has returned to us!” Thomas Grey announced. “All hail King Edward the Fifth.”

  
The cheers from the crowds were deafening and Edward was suddenly glad to be home.

* * *

  ** _September 19 1486_ **

****

Her husband and brother could not be more different. From the letters she had received from her mother, sisters, and dear Dickon, Edward, despite not being of age, had thrown in himself into the state affairs determined to be a man instead of the boy king he was when he first took the throne.

Charles on the hand preferred dancing and drinking rather than actually being king. While most called him Charles the Affable, Cecily could not help but think that Charles the Fool would a more appropriate moniker for him. Not that she would dare say so aloud.

Besides it really didn’t matter what she thought of him as she was his queen and someday she would give him an heir. Just recently she had learned that she was with child and prayed that she was carrying a son.

“Your husband fought a war while you were pregnant while mine will probably be off drinking and jousting,” Cecily jeered to Elizabeth while they were alone.

 “Cecily,” Elizabeth hissed, staring at her sister in horror.  “That’s your husband you are talking about. He loves you. The least you could do is show him some respect.”

“I’ll respect him when he earns it,” Cecily said snidely. When her sister let out a pained gasp and clutched her stomach, Cecily’s expression turned from derision to worry. “Lizzie, are you all right? Should I fetch the midwife?”

"My water just broke,” Elizabeth said, a smile on her face. “It seems that my baby is coming early.”

 At once the Queen of France summoned a midwife and her sisters’ ladies to help with the birth of her niece or nephew.

* * *

Almost twenty-four hours passed before Elizabeth’s labor was over and a baby was placed into her arms.

“You have given birth to a boy, sweet sister,” Cecily told her, pleased that she got to be there for oldest sister when she gave birth, knowing she would not be able to do the same for any subsequent nephews and nieces nor would they be around for her when she had her own children. “A healthy boy.”  
  
“His name will be Jasper after Henry’s uncle,” Elizabeth decided, kissing the top of her son’s head.  
  
“The Duke of Richmond will be pleased,” Cecily remarked, grimacing as she realized that the newborn’s grandmother would be just as happy but for an entirely different reason.

While Edward and Richard remained heirless, Lady Margaret could always try to convince Henry that God wanted the Tudors to rule instead of the House of York. Right now, the new Jasper Tudor would no doubt be his kingly uncle’s favorite nephew but someday he could prove to be Edward’s deadly enemy.

Cecily shuddered and put a protective arm around her sister, half-wishing she could protect them both from whatever treason they might find themselves to be caught in the middle of.

* * *

  ** _September 27 1486_ **

****

Despite taking his duties as co-regent very seriously and being dedicated to helping England become stabilized again, the Duke of Richmond had not wasted any time after receiving a letter from France to ask permission to sail to Calais so he could be with his wife and newborn son.

Edward had granted it readily enough, believing that he and Thomas could handle the first privy council session.

First were King Richard’s supporters. Despite knowing Edward was alive and Henry Tudor was fighting for him, Suffolk and Norfolk had stood by him, fighting against the true king’s army.

“Your Majesty, if I may, the Duke of Norfolk and his son are loyal to the crown and I know from my conversations with the duke that he truly thought that a boy king would bring England to ruins. I believe that he was simply misguided and his son will prove himself to be a loyal subject,” Henry Percy spoke up, ignoring the glares being sent his way.

“And Suffolk? Do you believe the same can be said of the de la Poles?” Edward inquired, wondering if his cousins had a similar opinion.

“I am afraid that I have not spoken to them as much but considering Suffolk’s steadfast loyalty to the House of York, I would not be surprised if he agreed with Norfolk.”

“Their motives are unimportant. They conspired against the true king and they should receive the same punishment as the rest of the usurper’s followers,” John de Verre pointed out, looking outraged that these two dukes might escape punishment.

“Not to mention, the Duke of Suffolk’s sons have as much Plantagenet blood in their veins as Your Majesty and His Highness the Duke of York, if we allow them to live…” the Earl of Derby trailed off when he saw the king’s glare.

“I am not going to kill my cousins for no other reason aside from the fact that they are my cousins. That being said, the Duke of Suffolk and his oldest two sons have chosen to side against me and they do deserve to die a traitor’s death,” Edward said gravely, grimacing at his own words. “As for the other two boys, they shall remain unmolested under the guidance of my aunt however they will not be able to obtain their father’s title of Suffolk or their brother’s title of Earl of Lincoln.”  
  
William and Richard de la Pole were not even ten yet and a part of Edward felt sorry for his young cousins and he vowed that when they were older, he would grant William a title of at an Earl but for now it was best if he let them lay low until he could marry them to daughters of courtiers he could trust.

His Uncle George’s son and daughter were wards of his brother Thomas. The Earl of Warwick would marry Edward’s half-niece Dorothy Grey while the Earl’s sister Margaret would marry Sir Richard Pole. 

As for the young Duke of Buckingham whose father had rebelled against King Richard only to die for it, Edward decided that he should marry his younger sister Catharine of York.

With his sister Anne marrying the future King of Scots and his youngest sister Bridget becoming a nun, that would leave only the Duke of York without a spouse and Edward would be sure to look hard for a suitable bride of his little brother.

“Well that settles the matter of the de la Poles but what of the Howards?” Thomas Stanley asked, sounding almost casual as though he wasn’t asking if Edward was planning increasing the number of men fated to die as traitors to the realm.

“They shall retain the Earldom of Surrey and if they continue to be loyal to me, I shall consider returning the dukedom of Norfolk to them,” Edward decreed. After all, John Howard might have fought against the crown but he had sent a warning to Elizabeth Woodville days after the former Duke of Buckingham had taken the two princes from the tower and sent them to France for safety that she and her daughters would be arrested if they did not flee as well.

“So be it. With the death of the Duke of Gloucester's supporters, we can put behind the reign of the usurper once and for all,” Thomas Grey proclaimed. “We shall burn away the past and the reign of King Edward the Fifth can start anew.” 

“Ahem to that.”  
  
“Speaking of my reign,” Edward began, his lips twitching upwards before sobering. “I wish to discuss the line of secession as my wedding day not for another six years. I think it would be prudent to draw up a document now in case I die before my time.” He could tell that his words unnerved his councilors but he pressed on, knowing that this was too important to put off. “If I die without any heirs my brother Richard is to succeed me and after his children, it shall go down to my sister Elizabeth and any of her children. Then to my sister Catherine and any children she should have. Past them the crown shall be passed down to my cousins starting with the Earl of Warwick and his sister.”

Edward was so focused on what he was saying that he missed a crafty look on the Earl of Northumberland’s face.

* * *

Meanwhile, the Countess of Derby was watching the Dowager Queen as she played with her youngest children in the gardens with narrowed eyes. There were so many stories about Elizabeth Woodville, about how she was a witch who had cursed her enemies and bewitched the king,

Margaret doubted that as the silly chit seemed about as threatening as a kitten. She had simply gotten lucky that the late King Edward was a fool for a pretty face, choosing to marry her and raise her family high, something that turned his brother and friend against him.

The late King Edward and his queen were weak and Margaret had no doubt that their sons were weak to. Henry might have decided to play nice but eventually the Woodville’s brat would cave under the pressure and he and his brother would be easily unseated by their cousin.

From all reports despite being born a month early, the newest Jasper Tudor was hale and healthy. God willing he would grow into a fine man and hopefully he would listen to his grandmother and do what his father was unwilling to do, take back the crown of England for the Lancastrians.

Elizabeth Woodville must have felt someone was watching her because she turned around and looked up until her eyes met Margaret’s icy ones.

Both women stared at each other, unwilling to tear their eyes from each other, the same determined expression on their faces. Neither would back down.

The Duke of York tugged at his mother’s sleeve, wanting her to return to their game. Elizabeth turned away from the woman in the window, putting a protective arm around her son’s shoulders. She walked away with him, throwing a meaningful look at Margaret as she did so.

“Oh I know you won’t give up, dear,” Margaret whispered, half-wishing that her rival could hear her words from so far away. “But the thing is, I won’t rest until the House of Tudor replaces the House of York and takes their rightful place on the throne of England.”

* * *

  ** _October 11 1486_ **

****

When the Duke and Duchess of Richmond returned from France with the Earl of Pembroke, they settled down in the Palace of Sheen which King Edward had given them as a belated wedding gift.

After the execution of their father and older two brothers, William and Richard de la Pole were sent to live with the Duke and Duchess of Richmond once they had returned to France. They were not the only wards of Henry Tudor. He had also taken in Charles Brandon, son of William Brandon who had died saving Henry’s life.

“His mother will be Jasper’s nursemaid so it only makes sense that he lives here as well,” Henry said when his wife questioned Charles Brandon’s presence in the nursery. “Besides he can be Jasper’s companion when he grows older just like William and Richard."  
  
Elizabeth smiled sadly at the mention of her poor cousins. While she certainly understood why the Duke of Suffolk had to die, she couldn’t help but think that considering the fact that John and Edmund were barely adults, they had barely participated in the battle of Bosworth Field against her husband.

It could be worse and she knew that it was a king’s duty to make sure that any viable threats to his throne were neutralized but it just seemed a little harsh.

But Edward had been kind to his younger cousins and Elizabeth was sure that he would treat William and Richard no differently.

“Your Grace, the Countess of Derby is at the gates,” a page informed them.

Henry sighed. They had barely been in England for a day and already his mother had arrived no doubt to inspect her grandson.

“We should go greet her or we shall never hear the end of it,” he muttered, extending his arm for his wife to take, signaling for Mistress Brandon to carry Jasper behind them as they walked out of the nursery and down to the great hall.

* * *

They didn’t have to wait long for Lady Margaret Beaufort to arrive and when she did, she embraced her son lovingly.

“Oh my darling son, I have missed you so,” she gushed not even bother to greet Elizabeth with anything more than a nod of her head. “I’m glad you have returned home. Where is my beamish grandson? I have been waiting so long to finally meet him.” Her eyes lit up when Henry beckoned Mistress Brandon forward and she quickly snatched him from his nursemaid’s arms. “Oh he is a darling boy. He already looks quite clever and handsome."  
  
Had she not possessed an ounce of decorum Elizabeth might have snorted. Jasper was not even a month-old and yet Lady Margaret was talking about him as though he was already walking and talking, ready for the school-room.

“I hope my brother will love him half-as much as you do,” Elizabeth said, her voice sickly-sweet with an innocent smile.

Although he had his christening ceremony in France, Elizabeth had still made Edward one of Jasper’s godfathers with King Charles being the other godfather. Cecily and Lady Margaret were both Jasper’s godmothers. Elizabeth prayed that if she and Henry died, that their children would become wards of the crown instead of being raised by their grandmother who would no doubt poison their minds against their kingly uncle and godfather.

“Oh I’m sure he will. After all, unless he and his brother have sons, little Jasper here is the next in line to the throne,” Margaret informed them, her smile wide and her eyes gleaming as if Edward had declared that Jasper was to be the next Prince of Wales instead of him simply being third in line behind his uncle and mother.

There was a part of Henry that did wonder what it would be like if his wife’s brothers died and she was declared queen regent. As he was also in line to the throne, they could both be rulers in their own right much like Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand.

Despite his exasperation at his mother’s ambitions, he couldn’t help but think King Henry the Seventh and Queen Elizabeth the First would be a rather nice symbol that much like the now united country of Spain, England was ruled by the House of Plantagenet united once again.

However, he would not be so foolish as to make such wishes especially in front of people who could run to the King and thusly destroying the trust the young lad had in him. Quite honestly, his years in France had made him rather fond of Edward and it would hurt if the boy grew weary of him.

“I’m sure that Anne of Brittney and whoever the Duke of York marries will keep the Plantagenet line going strong,” he said firmly. “God will bless the king with many healthy heirs I’m sure.”

Margaret scoffed as she handed her grandson back to his nursemaid, waving her hand to dismiss the servants who waited until their master nodded to leave the three people alone. “Anne of Brittney will not be of age for another six years and considering the fact that her mother has yet to birth a healthy boy who knows what sort of children she’ll bear if she even can,” she hissed. “Trust me, my son, it is God’s will that you be king of England, I’ve known it since you were a child.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth, furious that Margaret would say something like that about her future sister-in-law, the future queen of England no less. But she closed it when Henry lightly touched her arm, stilling her anger.

“You know, Mother, I’ve always found it interesting how often God’s will matched your own,” Henry remarked, his tone chilly.

He loved his mother more than anyone in this world but he would not commit treason just because she believed he should be king.

Besides if it truly was God’s will that he be king, then he would wait until King Edward and Prince Richard died of natural causes with no heirs. He might not be a young man but he was also not a brash man.

He would let things take their course and see where the land lay. If he was to be the ruler of England, then he would be. If not then, being the power behind the throne was good enough for him.

* * *

  ** _November 2 1486_ **

****

“Is it just me or has every courtier brought their daughters for my birthday?”  King Edward asked, slightly perplexed as it was usually the sons that came in hopes that they would integrate themselves with the king’s inner circle, becoming his friends and companions.

Unfortunately, Edward was not as outgoing as his father and those who were his favorites were either part of his family or were trusted friends of his family. Perhaps nobles and gentlemen had hoped that their daughters would succeed where their sons had not. Although he couldn’t quite understand why anyone would think daughters would be…oh.

_Oh!_

“Interesting choice of words but honestly not untrue. They certainly are hoping that you will pick what they brought to please you on your birthday,” Thomas laughed, causing their mother to glare at him.

Edward’s cheeks were already heating up but he became completely flushed at the double meaning behind his half-brother’s words.

“I think they are just hoping that you will be like your father and you will take a mistress,” Elizabeth Woodville whispered, patting her son’s arm. “After all, you won’t be married for another six years.”  
  
“Not quite, Mother, if rumors are to be believed there are many nobles who are actually hoping that Ned will be exactly like his father and spurn the French Princess for an English bride,” Thomas explained in a hushed voice, eying a group of Earls who seemed to be in a deep conversation.

“And when exactly did you learn of this?” Edward asked, guessing that these rumors started shortly after Act of Succession was made.

After all, despite Henry’s loyalty, as long as Edward remained sonless, baby Jasper was technically a threat and therefore it was plausible that his courtiers would be under the impression that a Prince of Wales was needed sooner rather than later.

“I didn't want to bother you with foolish gossip,” Thomas defended himself, waving his hand dismissively. “Besides I doubted it would even work.”

“You should have told me,” Edward said annoyed, glancing around the room and suddenly feeling like there were too many people in the room. Was it just him or was it becoming suffocating in here? “I’m going to get some air.”

Not caring that everyone was looking at him when he suddenly stood up and walked out of the banquet hall and into an antechamber. Let them celebrate without him for the time being, he needed some time by himself.

* * *

 With a cloak tightly around him, he went outside, not caring about the cold or the snow. His grooms did not speak as they trailed behind him and if it weren’t for their boots crunching the snow, Edward might have fooled himself into thinking that he was completely alone.

They must have been keeping their distance for they did not notice a group of children that were just around the corner nor did they see the snowball that was flying towards their king. In their defense he did not see it either until the snowball hit his face.

“Oh look what you did, Ali! You just attacked the king!” someone shouted.

“Yes and I’m sure my brother is going to throw her in the tower for hitting him with a snowball,” Dickon muttered sarcastically as he, Annie and Cathy ran over to the teenaged king who was lying on the snow, looking quite stunned.

As he dusted the snow off his doublet, Edward’s grooms ran over to help him up, looking as though they weren’t sure whether to be horrified or amused at what just happened.

Glancing over the group of children, Edward realized that aside from his brother, younger sisters, and cousins, there were also a few children of nobles. He noted that there seemed to be no adults around, supervising the children which was quite odd.

The oldest of the group---aside from Dickon---was a girl who looked to be thirteen-years-old. From the guilty look on her face, the king could guess that she had been the one to throw the snowball that had hit him.

“Dickon, before I ask you to introduce me to your friends, I would love to know why you all are out here by yourself,” Edward said, speaking in a stern voice that he had heard his mother use so many times whenever they had been bold.

“It’s my fault, cousin,” the Earl of Warwick spoke up before Dickon could. “I fond a secret passageway leading out of the castle through a side door. When I told Dickon about it, he wanted to use it to escape our governess who thought we would be visiting the Percy children which we are but we told their governess that we were going to play in the royal nursery.”

Edward decided that he was going to have a very long talk with the women who were supposed to be in charge of these children. Before that, he would find out where this passageway was and make sure that it was sealed off so no one with less altruistic motives used it to break into the castle.

“Ned, will you come play with us? The teams are uneven but now that you are here, you can play on our team. Please play with us!” Cathy implored him, grabbing his hand and giving him the saddest eyes he had ever seen. The seven-year-old manipulative little imp even had her lip quivering.

“Cathy, Ned’s not gonna play with us. He’s a king and king don’t do childish things, right?” Dickon asked, turning towards his brother with hope in his eyes. The monarch had a gut feeling that the Duke of York hoped that his brother would prove him wrong and agree to their younger sister’s plea.

Edward stared at all three of his siblings, realizing for the first time that he was not much older than them and yet he had been so busy trying to act like a good king that he had never realized that they might miss playing with him.

Four years ago, he had been playing all sorts of games with his siblings, carefree and happy like the child he was instead of having to be a man with responsibilities. Already people thought he would be fancying women like he would fancy fine wine. In six years, he would be married and would have even more duties than before.

He had to grow up and take his responsibilities seriously but today, he didn’t want to.

Today, he wanted to be a boy again. He wanted to be far away from politics and the intrigues of the court. Today, he wanted to here, playing in the snow.

After all, it was his birthday, so why shouldn’t he get a break?

“All right. But I don’t want anyone to go easy on me,” Edward declared, scooping up a handful of snow and throwing at his brother.

Dickon never looked happier as he, Annie, Warrick and the Percy girl began to gather their own snowballs to counterattack while Edward, Cathy, cousin Margaret and Hal Percy the younger did the same.

Tomorrow, Edward would be the sixteen-year-old king, eager to prove himself and fearful that he would make a mistake.

Today, he was as carefree as he had been when his father was alive.


	2. Gamble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comparisons are made. The Woodvilles are discussed. Another player enters the game. Edward takes after his father by marrying one of his one subjects and Richard, well, he takes another part of their father's personality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that Richard the Duke of York was married? I was reading his wikipedia page and I found out that apparently Edward IV married his four-year-old son to rich heiress named Anne de Mowbray, 8th Countess of Norfolk who was only five. Obviously their marriage was never consummated although King Edward made sure to take over her lands and fortune when she died at age eight. But I thought that was interesting and I can't help but wonder what would have happened if they had both survived.

**_December 5 1488_ **

****

“France is eager to annex Brittany,” the Duke of Richmond stated with a frown.  “Hence the Duke of Orleans is pressuring his cousin King Charles to arrange a marriage between him and Anne of Brittany now that he is a widower. King Charles has an heir which means that Brittany’s independence is not threatened as much with the Duke of Orleans being second-in-line to the throne hence why the Duchess of Brittany’s councilors have shown no resistance to such an idea. Furthermore this proposal has the support of the French council who will most certainly try to coerce the young king to take Anne of Brittany by force if we do not agree to their terms.”

 

King Edward nodded, frowning slightly. Despite being an ocean away, he and Charles had continued to be friends and their bound deepened when Queen Cecily gave birth the dauphin who was Edward’s nephew, godson and namesake.

 

However sometimes politics came before friendship and family.  He had no doubt that if King Charles refused to go along with his cousin and councilors, he would be accused of being weak and subservient to England. As easygoing as he was, Charles would not let anyone question his authority.

 

And if Edward were to be honest with himself, he might not be so upset if his upcoming nuptials with Anne of Brittany were cancelled.

 

“Perhaps we should allow the betrothal to happen and look for a princess who is closer to Your Majesty’s age,” Cardinal John Morton suggested.

 

“If we do that, it will look as though we are just letting France walk all over us,” Thomas Grey pointed out.

 

“Not if we ask for payment for allowing the betrothal to be annulled,” Richmond contradicted shrewdly. “In fact, he can ask for the same amount we would have gotten as Anne of Brittany’s dowry.” 

 

Edward grinned at his brother-in-law, thinking that was not a half bad plan. “Perhaps we should ask for a bit more than that. That way if they refuse, we can lower the price. Like you said, they are eager to annex Brittany so let’s see just how desperate they are to claim it.”

 

Of course, they could not be too greedy, France might want to end the matter peacefully but if England was too pushy, they would decide that it wasn’t worth it before sending their troops to Brittany and take Anne to France by force. The only reason they hadn’t was because they felt it would cost them less money and men to negotiate than it would to invade Brittany especially if England chose to send troops to stop them.

 

“A good idea, Your Majesty,” the Earl of Surrey complimented as though he had come up with it himself instead of simply expanding on Richmond’s idea. 

 

Although he was the King’s brother-in-law, there were many nobles who resented Henry Tudor’s rise to power. Some were suspicious of him and feared that one day, he would make a move for the throne. However, most were simply jealous that despite coming from two lines of bastards, Henry Tudor had married a princess, became a duke and was the king’s most trusted advisor.

 

Of course in the Earl of Surrey’s case, he merely hoped that if he continued to suck up to the king, he would reclaim his dukedom.

 

“What of Spain? Do you think that they might wish to make their daughter a queen instead of a duchess?” Oxford inquired, looking pensive.

 

Edward frowned, thinking it would quite unseemly if he went after his brother’s fiancée. Luckily she was even younger than Anne of Brittany was and therefore unable to be birth any heirs for another decade. “The Princess Catalina is only three-years-old. I believe as His Eminence pointed out that it would be best to look for a bride who is of marriage age.”  
  
  
Oxford looked like he wanted to say something but was unsure of if it would be welcomed. Thankfully the Marquess of Dorset came to his rescue.

 

“Your Majesty, I believe Oxford was pointing out that if we allow the betrothal to be annulled, King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain might want you to marry their daughter instead of the Duke of York,” Thomas explained.

 

Edward could feel heat coloring his cheeks, feeling rather embarrassed at his mistake. He might be the king but at eighteen-years-old, he was still a teenager compared to the experienced men that made up his privy council.

 

Perhaps he was being a bit paranoid. However, there were times when he couldn’t help but wonder if his councilors saw him as an inexperienced child.

 

“Well I suppose we can deal with that if such a subject is broached by Spain for we will not suggest it,” Edward declared, keeping his voice steady. “I think perhaps that is enough talk about potential brides for today.”

 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see his older brother hiding a smirk behind his goblet as he took a drink.

 

“Your Majesty, if it pleases you, I shall compose a list of Europe’s eligible ladies who would be suitable as your wife,” Richmond suggested, inclining his head as he adjusted the sleeves of his doublet.

 

In France Edward and Henry had come up with a code that would allow them to communicate without giving anything away to those who were in close proximity to them.

 

Henry’s particular gesture meant that Edward was not to argue with him now but instead dismiss the other men and discreetly pull him aside.

 

“Yes that would please me greatly. I think it is time for our council to come to an end, Dorset, Richmond, if you could stay behind so we may discuss my sister’s birthday,” King Edward suggested, wincing inwardly as he realized what a lame excuse that was especially considering his sister’s birthday was more than a month away.

 

However, no one dared point it out as the men single filed out of the chambers, leaving the three of them alone.

 

“Our sister’s birthday,” Thomas repeated incredulously.

 

“She was the only one I could think of,” Edward defended himself, glaring at his half-brother.

 

“Your Majesty, speaking of being discreet,” Henry began, giving Edward a look that could only be described as unimpressed. “I would suggest that you do not propose to the lady you think no one is aware you are in love with until the betrothal between you and Anne of Brittany is officially broken off.”

 

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Edward lied, his cheeks red, this time for a completely different reason.

 

“Do you think the entire court is blind to the way you seem drawn to Lady Eleanor Percy?” Henry asked, his tone bland as his eyebrow shot upwards.

 

“We are just friends as she is with my siblings and my cousins,” Edward protested.

 

“And yet they don’t seem half as upset when she leaves court or happy when she returns to court,” Thomas pointed out with a sly wink. He then directed his next words to Henry. “To be fair though, Your Grace, it is only obvious to people who know my brother well. At worst, the court assumes that the King will make Eleanor his mistress.”

 

Edward grimaced upon hearing that but he said nothing, knowing a reaction from him would only confirm their suspicions.

 

“Regardless of what is being said, the last thing we want is for France to know that you have an ulterior motive to allow their suit for annulment. That is why for the next few months, you must treat Lady Eleanor as though she was just another lady. In fact, I would suggest that she returns to her home with the rest of her family for the time being,” Henry stated.

 

“Is that really necessary?” Edward asked. “She’s done nothing wrong and our relationship has been nothing but chaste.”

 

“I understand that and this is nothing but a precaution to ensure that the French don’t drag negotiations out in hopes that you will cave and agree to it without any sort of compensation,” Henry told him.

 

“Forgive me for saying so, brother, but one of your father’s worst traits was his impulsivity,” Thomas pointed out. “All Richmond is asking is for you to wait a few months before planning your wedding.”  
  
  
“But if, as you say, it’s obvious to everyone that I want to marry Eleanor,” Edward began, fighting back a smile. “wouldn’t that mean it would be obvious to the French Ambassador and therefore the entire French council?”  
  
  
“Not if you send her from court and have no more contact with her until the negotiations are over,” Henry informed him. He quickly added when it looked like Edward was about to object: “All I ask is for three months at the most.”

 

“Fine but I will be the one who tells her,” Edward commanded firmly. “I will talk to her discreetly.”

 

“Very well.” The king decided to ignore the doubtful expressions on his brother and his brother-in-law’s faces.

* * *

Almost thirty minutes later, Edward’s mind was racing as he pictured Eleanor wearing the queen’s crown, a vision of delicate beauty. The thought of her being his wife excited him and yet it also filled him with anxiety.

 

Ever since that fateful night when he chanced upon his younger siblings engaging in a snowball fight with their cousins and the oldest of the Percy children, they had become rather close.

 

The young king wasn’t sure when his feeling for Ali (as she preferred to be called) stopped being platonic. All he knew was that her mere presence was enough to make him feel carefree and warm. 

 

“How did Father and you know that you were in love?” he asked perhaps the only person who would understand what he was going through.

 

“Your father was the type of man who fell in love easily,” Elizabeth Woodville replied. “Why he loved me in particular? Well I’m not sure. Some people claimed witchcraft. Maybe that was it.”

 

“Mother, don’t joke about that,” Edward scolded her, scandalized that she could speak so casually about accusations of witchcraft that had no doubt harmed her reputation more than once.

 

“He loved me. Even when he had mistresses, he loved me,” Elizabeth murmured, a faraway look in her eyes. “As for me: your father was like a handsome chivalrous knight from the old tales and so it was impossible not to fall in love with him. Perhaps I idealized him too much but I loved him and he loved me. We knew it from the moment our eyes met.”

 

“That quickly?” Edward asked in surprise. His feelings for Eleanor had changed from friendship to something more rather abruptly but it had taken more than a year for them to change and another year for him to have noticed or rather for it to be pointed out by his younger brother.

 

“Sometimes you just know, other times it is obvious to everyone except you,” the dowager queen teased, ruffling her son’s hair.  She then placed a finger beneath his chin and lifted his head up.  “What troubles you, my sweet boy?”

 

“Nothing. I just don’t want to make a mistake,” Edward admitted. “After all, I am a just a boy who has never been in love before, how I can be sure that I'm doing the right thing?”

 

“I think you give yourself far too little credit,” Elizabeth said softly. “Besides love conquers all, don't you know that?”  

 

“And yet we are expected so often to ignore our hearts for the sake of duty,” Edward countered.  

 

“That is true and I shall not ever say that duty is not important. I would not have had your older brothers had I not done my duty,” Elizabeth agreed, a sad smile on her face as she thought of her son Richard Grey who was executed along with her brothers, Anthony and Richard Woodville by the so-called King Richard III.

 

Her brother Richard was the last of the male Woodvilles making their earldom extinct. It now belonged to the crown and Edward would make sure to give it to one of Thomas’ younger sons, therefore making the next Earl of Rivers a descendant of his mother’s family.

 

“It’s strange how your parents eloped and yet expected their children to marry for duty,” Edward chuckled.

 

“Something my father once pointed out,” Elizabeth agreed. “But in all fairness, Ned, it was less about duty and more about allies as the Woodvilles were treated with suspicion as we changed sides so abruptly. The fact that your father and I married soon after my family allied with the Yorks did not help matters. However it’s different for you. The war is over, Ned and you have no duty that needs to be fulfilled. You are free to follow your heart.”

* * *

Her father was ill, her mother and siblings were to return to their estates but she was to remain behind under the watchful eyes of her uncle. Her father had given no reason for her to stay but it was obvious why. 

First her father had wanted her to marry the Earl of Surrey’s (Duke of Norfolk then) grandson but when he found out that Henry Tudor was sponsoring the exiled boy king, he had thought she’d be better off marrying the young Duke of Buckingham. 

 

When it was decided that the Duke of Buckingham would marry Princess Catherine of York instead, Henry Percy had taken it in stride. He decided to look higher for his oldest daughter, pressing her and her brother to befriend the Duke of York, hoping that the young boy would turn out like his father and become besotted to the point where he would marry her.   

 

However Eleanor doubted that even her ambitious father would have guessed that instead of gaining the Duke of York’s attraction---ironically she might be the only woman the fifteen-year-old prince did not flirt with--- it was the king who seemed to want to spend every moment in her presence.

 

At first Edward seemed to treat her as he would any lady but as the months passed, he seemed to talk to her more casually, even allowing her to call him Edward, something she noted that no one outside of his family was allowed to do. Then she started to notice that his eyes seemed to always be on her.

 

He did not flirt with her or send her gifts like most men did with the women they were courting. But if he wanted to dance with a lady not related to him, she was the only one he asked. The first time he ever jousted, it was her favor he asked for---he played it off as not wanting to upset his sisters by having to decide between them but anyone with eyes could see the way he seemed to light up when she tied her favor around his lance, wishing him luck.

 

There were rumors that Edward was like his father and would spurn his intended bride for her instead and Eleanor desperately hoped that was the case.  Not because she wanted to be queen---well she’d be a liar if she didn’t admit that certainly was a perk---but because she wanted to be his wife.

* * *

_“Do you know what I thought when I first saw you?”_

_They stood together on the balcony, looking out at the starry sky, ignoring the music and the chatter of the courtiers which was muffled only slightly by the glass doors that led to the banquet hall._

_“I just assaulted the King,” Edward guessed, a ghost of a smile on his face that only got bigger when it caused her to laugh._

_“Oh, will I ever live that down?” Eleanor jested, dramatically shaking her head before sobering slightly. “That’s when we first met. I first saw you months earlier when you were officially crowned. I thought you looked far too serious and it made me wish I could make you laugh just so I could see a smile.”_

_“You do make me smile,” the golden-red haired king remarked, smiling fondly._

  
  
_“Thank you, Your Majesty but I---”_  
  
  
_“Ali, please, you promised,” Edward reminded her, mock-reproachful._

_“Oh all right, Ned, but I don’t think that I can accept credit, at least not all of it, for making you smile,” Eleanor said, glancing towards the doors where his half-brother was dancing with his wife. She frowned, as it occurred to her that in just a little more than two years, Anne of Brittney would be in England as Edward’s wife and queen and she doubted that the French Princess would want any rival for the King’s affections. “Perhaps we should go back inside,” Eleanor said abruptly._

_“Is everything all right?” Edward asked her, unnerved by her sudden change in mood._

_“It’s nothing, Ned,” Eleanor assured him, smiling again as she laid her hand on his arm, letting him led her inside._

* * *

Regardless of her father’s ambitions, she would not get in the way of Edward’s duty no matter how much she wanted to. She had promised herself that she would accept whatever he chose to do and yet that did not stop the despair she felt when the Duke of Richmond sent her a message that by the order of His Majesty, she was to leave court and return to her family estates.

 

Nor did it stop her from feeling a surge of bitterness when an hour later, her uncle told her that the Dowager Queen had summoned her. She had no doubt that Edward had begged his mother to apologize to her for him, instead of having the courage to say he was sorry to be banishing her for no other reason than he was trying to please a woman---no a girl he had never met.

 

Eleanor crossed herself upon thinking such spiteful thoughts. Edward was doing what he must to still the rumors still circulating around court and she certainly should not be condemning his decision as it showed the strength of his character that he would strive to be kind to a eleven-year-old girl who had no say in her choice of husband either and would be leaving the comfort of home for a land of strangers.

 

She was surprised that when she arrived at Elizabeth Woodville’s chambers, she immediately dismissed Eleanor’s ladies, telling them that she would send one of her other ladies to escort her back to the Percy apartments.

 

It became much clearer when Elizabeth led her to her to a secret antechamber where Edward was waiting for her. The Dowager Queen gave her arm a light squeeze and an encouraging smile before heading back to the chamber she had come out of, leaving the door open, no doubt listening to every word.

 

“I’m sorry for the deception but this was the only way I could talk to you privately without anyone suspecting anything,” the king explained.

 

“Oh? And what did you need to talk about, Your Majesty?” Eleanor asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She wasn’t his mistress so there was absolutely no need to treat her as though she was a dirty secret. “The Duke of Richmond has already expressed your wish for me to leave court. My servants are packing my things as we speak and I shall be ready to leave by tomorrow morning the latest.”  
  
Edward scowled darkly, angered that Henry had sent a letter to Eleanor’s household before he had the chance to explain that this was not as bad as she clearly believed it was.

 

“Please forgive me, Ali, I wanted to speak to you first. I---uh---please understand that I’m only asking you to leave for the sake of appearance. The last thing I would ever want is for us to be apart,” Edward rambled, feeling like he could kick himself for sounding so stupid.

 

Eleanor softened, touched by his genuineness. She reminded herself that she knew this day would come eventually and she promised herself that she would not be selfish. And yet she had not thought it would come so quickly. A part of her wished that she could put aside her pride and beg him to let her stay by his side, even if she had to be his mistress, that would be better than pretending that they felt nothing for each other.

 

“I understand, Ned. Will you ever allow me to return or do you think it will be better for your queen if I stay away?” Eleanor inquired, averting her eyes.

 

Edward’s brow furrowed in confusion briefly before realizing what she meant.  He dropped to his knees, taking her hands in his. 

 

“France wishes to annul the betrothal between me and Anne of Brittney. In a few months, I shall be a free man and there is only one woman I want as my wife and queen: you,” Edward declared, kissing her hands.

 

Eleanor’s jaw dropped unsure what to say to that. So she kneeled down next to him and rested her forehead on his.

 

“Would it be considered to bold to ask for a kiss from a king?” she wondered.

 

“I must admit, I do not care,” Edward laughed as he closed the gap between them. 

* * *

  ** _April 16 1489_ **

****

Elizabeth of York preferred to stay in the country with the boys instead of going to court, although she still came for some events. So to keep abreast of what was happening she relied on letters from her mother, brothers and husband.

 

She was not surprised to hear that the betrothal contract between her brother and the Duchess Anne was dissolved. It had been on the horizon for over a year ever since her brother started showing marked favor to Lady Eleanor. 

 

According to Henry the negotiations had gone quicker than he expected and although it was not as much money as he would have liked, it was still a very good deal. They had even gotten the Pope’s blessing just as an added precaution to make sure that the breaking of the engagement was both legal in terms of God’s law as well as the laws of man.

 

As soon as he got the confirmation that he was no longer betrothed, Edward would send a messenger to Alnwick castle where the Percys would no doubt be waiting for him to summon them to court.

 

Henry had asked that Elizabeth return to court so she could be among the courtiers that greeted Edward as he brought his new fiancée to met them. He had not mentioned their son or their wards but the princess turned duchess knew better than to suggest to bring them.

 

While to her bringing at least Jasper to court was just to introduce him to his soon-to-be aunt and let him see his uncle and father who were so caught up in state affairs that they hardly interacted with him.

 

But some courtiers, especially the proud Percys, might take the sight of her son as a reminder that while Edward was heirless, Jasper was next in line for the throne, a rival to any children Lady Eleanor might have.

 

Considering that she had just learned that she would have Henry and her second child in November, it would be for the best if she erred on the side of cation.

* * *

  ** _April 29 1489_ **

 

The Duke of York was almost sixteen and the women he flirted with were not yet mature nor did they know much of the carnal pleasures he was seeking. No, Dickon had wanted his first time to be with a lady with experience.

 

Lady Margaret Bourchier was seven years older than him and despite having the prim and proper appearance in public, in private she was not so stiff. It had been something of a challenge to get her out of her shell.

 

 She had not been married for very long but she certainly had enough experience to teach Dickon a few things.

 

“I must admit, Your Highness, that you are a fast learner,” Margaret moaned breathlessly as she collapsed into his arms.

 

“I do hope your husband does not mind sharing you because I am eager to continue practicing,” Richard purred, nipping her ear. “Sir Thomas does not know just what kind of woman he has.”  
  
  
“Oh he knows what type of woman I thought I was so he will be quite shocked and humiliated if he ever finds out about this,” Margaret murmured. “So I beg of you to try not to brag about pleasuring me.”  
  
  
Dickon grinned at her, his chest puffing up in pride. “Did I really pleasure you that much, my lady?”

  
  
“If you hadn’t told me, I would never have believed this was your first time,” Margaret complimented him, licking her lips.

 

Taking that as a hint that it was time for round two, Dickon pulled her on top of him, passionately kissing her.

 

Unfortunately their tryst was interrupted by a knock on the door.

 

“Your Highness, the King wishes for you to meet him in his private audience chambers,” the groom called, having heard enough sounds to realize that opening the door would not be welcomed.  

 

Dickon groaned, annoyed that his brother had to interrupt him now. He spent weeks chasing after Margaret who despite having already lost her maidenhead was still not the type to be some lord’s mistress. However in time, he won her over.

  
“Your brother calls and you must answer,” Margaret told him, escaping his hands and already starting to put her clothes back on. Unwilling to let her go just yet, Dickon untied her laces every time she tied them. Although she did not slap his hand away, the twenty-three-year-old gave him a glare. “We both have places to be, Your Highness, so don’t be childish.”  
  
  
“Childish? Am I not a man? Have I not proved to be a man?” Dickon demanded, taking umbrage to her words as well as her tone.

 

To his surprise Margaret blushed at his words, her eyes trailing downwards before she quickly averted them, clearly embarrassed by her own lust.

 

“I would say so, yes but we must not get lost in our desires every time,” the dark-haired lady pointed out. “We have duties that we must attend to. We can do this again some other time.”

 

“I shall hold you to that,” Richard declared, watching her as she got dressed slowly before inclining his head, giving her permission to leave.

 

He lay there for a few minutes basking in the glow of his first time.  Then he called for his grooms to come dress him. He had left his brother waiting for long enough. 

* * *

When Richard walked into his brother’s audience chamber, Thomas took once look at him and clapped him on the back.

 

“Look at that, my little brother is all grown up,” he laughed. “Good for you.”  
  
  
“How did you---?” Dickon spluttered, surprised that his brother seemed to instantly know what he had done just by looking at him.

 

“No one grins like that unless they’ve been with a lady,” Thomas informed him.

 

“What? You---what? Dickon!” Edward exclaimed, looking scandalized and horrified at the same time.

“Are you upset that I not only was the first one to be married but also the first one to bed a woman?” Richard teased him.

 

“First of all, your marriage to Anne de Mowbray does not count considering it was never consummated. Secondly, who---actually never mind, I don’t want to know,” Edward decided, turning away from his grinning brothers. 

 

It was true that Richard’s “marriage” to the young Countess of Norfolk was not a true one due to them both being younger than six-years-old and was merely just a ploy for the late King Edward to get his hands on the heiress’ estates---something that paid off when little Anne died at age eight---but sometimes Dickon found it amusing that he was married before his older brother.

 

“I’m sorry, Ned, I’m just feeling a little giddy right now. I’m sure it will wear off soon and I can be serious if you need me to,” Dickon assured him.

 

“Can you really?” Edward asked, a slight smirk on his face.  In show of great maturity, Dickon stuck his tongue out at his brother. “Yes, that clearly allays my doubts. Moving on. I am planning on meeting the Percys before they reach London and I wanted you two to come with me.” 

* * *

 “To think, the next time you visit us in Alnwick Castle, you will be the Queen of England,” Maud Percy breathed, as she brushed her daughter’s hair. 

 

Eleanor shivered at her mother’s words. It didn’t feel real quite yet.

 

“I knew you would make a fine wife for a duke but I was wrong to think so lowly of you,” her father spoke in jest but she could detect the pride in his voice. He had been so very proud of her since she returned home and shared what Edward had said to her. “Just remember that all I’m hoping for is a dukedom.”

  
  
“Would you like to ask him the next time I see him or may I wait until after we get married?” Eleanor quipped dryly, quirking her eyebrow.

 

“Forgive me, I am but an old man who thinks his descendants deserve a dukedom,” Northumberland told her, having enough sense of humor not to be offend by his daughter’s brazen words. “Just be glad that is all I’m seeking. Goodness knows there are far more ambitious men than I.”

 

“You mean like our son. I love that boy but he keeps saying that Catherine Spencer is not worthy of a future brother-in-law of the king,” Maud remarked, frowning in disapproval.

 

 “He’s twelve. I’m sure he’ll grow out of his arrogance eventually,” the older Percy said, not sounding too convinced.

 

Just then little Alan came running in.

 

“The King is here!” he shouted in delight. “The King is here!”

* * *

 “How are you?”  
  
  
“When I daydreamed about this moment, that was not the first thing you said to me,” Eleanor jested as he kissed her hello. “And I imagined you kissing me in a meadow.” 

 

“I promise that I shall meet one of your expectations later, my love,” Edward laughed, kissing her lips again and again until his kisses were slowly becoming more passionate. They both were gasping for breath when they parted. “Forgive my lack of control but now that I’m kissing you, I find it hard to stop.”

 

“Ned, I’m beginning to think you are a hopeless romantic,” Eleanor giggled.

 

“Well you seem to bring out that side of me,” Edward told her, resting his forehead on hers. “I hope that you liked my letters. I know I’m not a poet but I thought you might have enjoyed them.”  
  
  
After a heated discussion, the Duke of Richmond agreed that he was perhaps being overly cautious--- the fact that Henry Tudor had admitted to being wrong was in itself a surprise and a victory--- and that as long as Edward was discreet, there was no harm in exchanging letters with Eleanor.

 

“I did. Thank you for writing to me.”  
  
  
“Not even married yet and already you two are sickeningly sweet,” Dickon drawled from a few feet away, causing Edward and Eleanor to jump apart as though they had forgotten about their two chaperons.

 

“Don’t ruin the moment,” Thomas scolded his younger brother, giving him a stern look.

 

“Now he knows how it feels,” Dickon grumbled under his breath.

 

“Perhaps we are being a bit selfish. I know my younger siblings are eager to meet you. Well Hall already knows you but William, Alan, Josceline and Elizabeth were quite disappointed when I stole you away as soon as you arrived,” Eleanor remarked, although it had been more that her parents had ushered their younger children away, allowing the two young lovers to have a private moment.

 

“Well we don’t have to return to court just yet,” Edward remarked. “I’ll send a letter to Richmond and tell him that I will be staying the night here and returning to court in the morning.”

 

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to get in the way of whatever business you need to attend to,” Eleanor remarked. Of course she doubted he would be here if he had something urgent bit of statecraft to attend to. Edward was certainly not a procrastinator and if he was expected to do something, it would be done.  

 

“Nothing but if something does come up, I am certain that Richmond can handle it,” Edward pointed out.  
  
  
“I doubt he’d admit it if he couldn’t,” Dickon quipped as the foursome strolled out of the living room and into the parlor. Neither Eleanor or Edward seemed to hear him and he let out a heavy sigh. “They are going to be like this from now on, won’t they?”  
  
  
“Don’t worry Dickon, I’m sure you will be just as bad as well once you are married,” Thomas remarked, throwing his arm around his younger brother’s shoulders.

 

Dickon snorted. “Well luckily I have at least ten years before that happens,” he said.

* * *

  ** _April 30 1489_ **

****

It was a scandal when Jacquetta had married a mere knight, Richard Woodville. A scandal that was still whispered about when their daughter became queen. And that mark against her family was nothing compared to the fact that they were once Lancastrians supporters, the Yorkist sworn enemies. Despite that, they were now favored by the Yorkist king who was so besotted with Elizabeth that he snubbed a French match just so he could marry her in secret.

 

Now their son followed in his footsteps by choosing an English woman from a family with Lancastrian sympathies as his bride.

 

But it was easier for them. Edward had not been as impulsive as his father, the Percys had chosen to fight against the usurper long before Edward had began taking an interest in Eleanor and their family’s noble lineage went back at least a hundred years and therefore they could not be accused of being social upstarts.

 

Although the Dowager Queen could not help but feel a bit of bitterness as she watched the court greet the Percys with far more graciousness and cheer than they had when she first arrived, she refused to let her acrimony mar her son’s future happiness for two reasons.

 

Firstly, having the nobles accept Eleanor as the new queen meant it was unlikely that the crafty Lady Margaret Beoufort could convince one of them to conspire with her against Edward (and Elizabeth still could not discount that Henry Tudor might be biding his time before making a grab for the throne). The fact that dear Lizzie was due to give birth to her second child by the end of the year did not help ease her suspicious mind--- although she was loath to think of her precious grandson who was not yet three as an enemy.  

The second thing was she refused to treat Eleanor as badly as Dowager Duchess Cecily of York had treated her. The old woman had thought Elizabeth was not good enough for her son and had made it quite clear that she scorned Edward’s actions. And while she did not outwardly support George or Richard’s treason, the Dowager Queen often suspected that her mother-in-law did not disagree with their accusations against the Woodvilles and Elizabeth. 

No, instead of treating Eleanor coldly, Elizabeth would make sure to treat the younger woman with kindness and respect. She would take her under her wing, helping her navigate the treacherous waters of the royal court. She would be more than a mother-in-law, she would a guide and a mentor, passing down all the wisdom she had learned to her true successor.

 

Elizabeth was taken out of her thoughts as Edward and Eleanor walked up to her. Her son had decided to forgo making an announcement at one of the banquets, feeling that by simply introducing Eleanor to Elizabeth formally, it would confirm what he was sure his courtiers already suspected.

 

“Mother, I would like you to meet my fiancée, Lady Eleanor Percy,” Edward proclaimed as the reddish-brown haired lady made a shallow curtsy.

 

“Your Majesty, Lady Eleanor, I am pleased to hear this news and I give my warmest congratulations,” Elizabeth said sweetly, moving forward to kiss Eleanor’s cheeks. “I am glad to be welcoming you to the family.”  
  
  
This caused the courtiers to clap enthusiastically, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.  But that mattered little.

 

After all, as long as Edward and Eleanor’s marriage turned out to be fruitful, enough sons to make sure that the Tudors, any Tudors, could start up another Cousin War again than her family's greatest gamble would continue to pay off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, tiny thing that was bugging me so much I needed to ask. Did glass doors exist in the 1400s? I think the answer is yes but I wasn't sure.  
> Also Eleanor's nickname comes from the fact that she is also called or her name is also spelled as Alianore but I felt that name just didn't feel right.  
> So thanks to an extremely weird brain fart, I thought that there was at least one French King named Edward, apparently there wasn't even a French Prince named Edward. So while I like the idea of Charles and Cecily naming their first son Edward, when he becomes King, he's gonna have a regnal name.  
> Oh and um, anyone know who Richard's first time was with? I'll give you a hint, we meet in the Tudors when she's much older.


	3. Precious Little Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward and Richard each get new that will change their lives forever. Henry and Elizabeth makes plans for a little trip, only for their son and two of their wards to fall ill. Meanwhile in France, Cecily is brooding as she recovers from a miscarriage.

  ** _March 15 1490_ **

 

King Edward watched as the Scottish Ambassador, standing in for King James, exchanged vows with his sister. In January of next year, just a few months after she turned fifteen, Anne would be off to Scotland.

 

He just hoped that his brother-in-law would be a kind and loving husband despite the rumors of his mistresses and bastards. The idea of losing his sister to a womanizer king of a cold country upset him. However, despite any misgivings he had, he knew that it was important that Scotland and England move past their years of fighting and become friends instead of enemies.

 

His sister marring a foreign king had gotten them peace with France so perhaps the same would work with Scotland as well. 

 

“Is it just me or does Lady Margaret look sour,” Eleanor whispered into Edward’s ear. “Of course she always looks like that but for some reason, she seems even more petulant than usual.”

 

The king struggled not to laugh at his wife’s words. He glanced over at the Countess who did indeed look put out that she had to watch as another York princess married a king, giving the Yorks another powerful ally. 

 

Perhaps she hoped her little granddaughter would marry the King of Scots, feeling that as the daughter of the “true” king, months old Margaret could do better than the son of an earl.

 

Despite viewing the Duke of Richmond as an upstart, the Earl of Surrey had suggested that baby Margaret marry his oldest son even though Thomas Howard was almost twenty-years-older than the girl.

 

Ever practical, the Duke of Richmond had suggested that Muriel Howard marry his heir Jasper while Margaret married Eleanor’s brother instead. According to Eleanor, her father and brother where both eager to agree, thinking that this arrangement was predecessor to Henry Percy becoming the Duke of Northumberland.

  
But to Lady Margaret, her grandchildren deserved better than nobility. They deserved royalty. After all if Edward and Richard died heirless, it would be her grandson who became king.

 

She might not say anything even in private but everyone knew what she truly thought. To her, her son was king in all but name and the sisters of the false king should not be marrying monarchs as they did not deserve to call themselves queens.

 

The fact that Eleanor had not fallen pregnant after almost a year of marriage only made her more certain that her son and grandchildren were destined to be much more than simple courtiers.

 

“Ned?” Eleanor’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. Her hand gently squeezing his arm. His expression was dark all of a sudden and she could almost hear his mind whirling. “Are you all right?”

 

“I’m fine,” Edward said softly, shaking his head to clear it. “Let’s just focus on Anne. After all today is her day.”

He doesn’t want her to worry or feel pressured (although he was certain that she knew of the whispers circling court that one of them might be infertile) to give him an heir. After all these things took time and they were both young.

 

They would have children eventually: Handsome princes and beautiful princesses. Lady Margaret could sneer and plot all she’d like, her grandson would be the Duke of Richmond but never the King of England.

 

Once the ceremony was over, Edward led the court back to the banquet hall for the feast he prepared for his dear sister. He didn’t look at Lady Margaret once, choosing instead to be happy about the present instead of worrying about the future.

* * *

Richard stared at the woman in front of him, shocked by her words. When he had met her eyes during the feast, he had thought the meaningful look she gave him meant she wanted a secret romantic rendezvous. He had no idea of the news she would share with him once they were alone.

 

“Are you sure?”

  
  
“I am positive, Your Highness. I missed my courses three times and I’ve been throwing up every single morning. A few days ago, I was examined by a midwife and she confirmed it. I shall give birth in less than six months,” Lady Margaret Bryan replied. “Thomas wants me to stay in the country for the rest of the pregnancy so I shall be leaving court once we get permission from the king.”

 

“So am I to be a father,” Richard murmured, unsure whether to be delighted or terrified by the prospect.

 

“I am afraid I cannot be certain about that. The child could be Thomas and I think that it would be best if it is his,” Margaret told him, averting her eyes, knowing that Richard would find her words unpleasant. “I have enjoyed these past few months, Your Highness but it’s time I started acting like a wife and mother instead of a silly girl allowing herself to be seduced by a charming prince.”

 

“Are you saying you want to end our…relationship?” Richard asked, an eyebrow raised.

 

“If it pleases you, my lord.”

 

“It does not please me,” Richard pointed out, although he kept his tone gentle. Margaret was not the type of woman who would speak freely to anyone of higher rank unless asked. For her to speak so openly showed how much trust and faith she had in him. “But if this is what you want, I shall not hold you against your will. But what of the child, will you keep them from me?”

 

“We can’t be sure it is even yours. I just think it will be best for all involved that we pretend that there is no chance my baby could have any other father than my husband,” Margaret explained, giving him a sympathetic look. “You are young, Your Highness and I’m sure you will have many children. Eventually you will have forgotten all about me and my baby.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Richard admitted with a sigh. Then he took her hand and kissed the back of it. “But should you ever want for anything, just ask and I will provide it for you.”

 

“You are too kind, Your Grace,” Margaret said as she curtsied. “We should return to the feast before we are missed.”

 

Richard nodded and his former mistress left the chamber to go back into the Great Hall. He did not follow her and instead returned to his apartment, wanting to alone to mull over the situation.

 

The young Duke of York was not alone for long. Nearly a half an hour after of sitting and brooding, his manservant announced the Marquess of Dorset.

 

“There you are, brother, I’ve been looking all over for you. What are…” Thomas trailed off when he saw the haunted look on his brother’s face. “You look like you need a stiff drink.” 

 

“Margaret’s pregnant,” Richard explained as Thomas handed him a goblet full of wine. He drowned it before his brother had a chance to sit down in the adjacent chair.

 

“Is it yours?” Thomas asked, knowing full well that Richard’s mistress was married, something his younger brother hadn’t even confided in with Edward.

 

“We don’t know but she thinks it would be best if we acted like the baby was her husband’s,” Richard told him.

 

“I suppose that is understandable. What man would want to take care of a baby his wife conceived with another man?” Thomas remarked. It was more likely it wasn’t Margaret but her husband’s idea to pretend that the baby wasn’t the son of the Duke of York to spare him the humiliation of not only being cuckold but also having to deal with the gossip that his wife preferred a man ten years his junior.

 

“That’s not the point, Thomas, I might become a father,” Richard snapped. “What if the child is mine? What if I walk away and I regret it for the rest of my life?”

 

“Dickon, when I learned I was to be a father, I was excited almost immediately. You, on the other had, look as if someone just told you, you had the plague,” Thomas pointed out. “If you want to acknowledge that child neither of the Bryans have any right to keep the baby away from you. But if you do it, there will be no turning back and you will be honor-bound to take some responsibility of your son or daughter.”

 

“I’m not ready,” Richard admitted. “But when do you know you’re ready?”  
  
  
“Usually when your wife tells she is with child,” Thomas replied simply, causing Richard to throw him an annoyed look. “What do you mean by ready exactly?” 

 

“I don’t know. But then again, I suppose that’s my point. I don’t know,” Richard groaned in frustration, throwing his hands in the air. “It was supposed to be just pleasure, I didn’t think she would get pregnant.”

Thomas stared at him in disbelief. “Yes because when you bed a lady just for pleasure, they never become with child,” he deadpanned dryly.

  
“Oh just go away,” Richard snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and doing a wonderful impression of petulant child.

 

“Never. I’m your older brother and I refuse to leave you to sulk by yourself,” Thomas told him, grabbing Richard’s empty goblet to refill it. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see a ghost of a smile on Richard’s face.

* * *

  ** _March 22 1490_**

**_France_ **

****

The French court was filled with poets, musicians, artists and composers. It was also filled to the brim with gossiping, scheming, judging courtiers.

 

“The Queen miscarried her baby.”

 

“They say the Duke of Orléans has impregnated his bride and if she has a boy, he will demand that King Charles make him his heir.”  
  
  
“Does he forget about the Dauphin?”  
  
  
“Everyone knows it will be a miracle if that weakling survives to his fifth birthday let alone to become king.”

 

Louisa of Savoy was a girl of fourteen, sharp as a whip and ambitious. She had befriended the Queen when she arrived at court which was no easy task as Cecily of York was not a trusting woman.

 

Once she had heard enough, off she went to the Queen’s apartments. Cecily was sitting up and sewing. Had it not been for her red eyes or the fact that she had dressed herself in black, someone might have mistaken her for not caring for the son who slipped out of the womb too early.

 

“What are they saying?” Cecily demanded, the minute Louisa greeted her. After her miscarriage, she decided to keep to herself in her apartments, only allowing a handful of her ladies to stay with her.

 

“Apparently my husband’s cousin’s wife is with child and if he has a son, he will champion him as King Charles’ heir,” Louisa informed her, not at all flustered by her mistress’ rather impolite tone.

 

“Anne of Brittany is only thirteen. Who do they think she is: Margaret Beaufort?” Cecily snapped, thinking rather viciously that it would serve those people right if Anne did get pregnant at thirteen and like the Countess of Derby could never get pregnant again but unlike the countess, she had a daughter. Cecily made a cross sign; she would never wish something so vile to happen to the young Duchess of Orléans who was merely a victim of ambitious men.

 

Unlike the counts Louisa had been eavesdropping on, she didn’t ask why Louis of Orléans thought his son would be Charles’ heir instead of her son. She didn’t need to, everyone feared that the little Dauphin was too sickly to live but then again, they thought Prince Edward would was too small when he was born and yet he continued to survive. Perhaps there was hope for him.

 

“It is just a rumor, my lady, I’m sure Louis like my own husband will wait until his wife turns fifteen before bedding her,” Louisa assured her.

 

The queen let out a heavy sigh as she frowned, causing the worry lines to appear more pronounced on her face. “If the worst happens, I would rather your husband became king than the Duke of Orléans who stole my brother’s bride forcing him to settle for a common bride.”

 

“I don’t think he minds much. From what I hear your brother loves his wife,” Louisa pointed out, bemused at the Queen’s anger as she of all people would have good cause to know that her brother had not minded dissolving the marriage betrothal between him and Anne of Brittany.

 

Cecily harrumphed. “Love has no place in political marriages. It always ends badly,” she said coldly.

 

“The King certainly loves you,” Louisa blurted out before she could stop herself.

 

To her surprise, Cecily did not scold her for speaking out of turn, instead she smiled fondly. “He does. He is a fool but he is a sweet fool,” she said, more to herself than to her lady-in-waiting. “I just hope I won’t let him or France down.”  
  
“You won’t. One way or another, your children will sit on the throne of France,” Louisa told her soothingly.

* * *

  ** _March 31 1490_ **

**_England_ **

****

_Oh sweet Bessie, was I ever a carefree girl or was I always tainted by cynicism and grave thoughts? I am beginning to wonder if those days where you, Mary and I would play together was just some sort of lovely dream._

_My husband is kind to me, loves me despite those horrible whispers that mock my poor Ned. I fear for him and that is why the miscarriage of my second baby hit me so hard. I am afraid that my son will die and have no brothers or sons to sit on the throne of France._

_But then again, it might not even matter. For Uncle Richard cared not for his nephews when he conspired to take the throne from them. Charles’ cousins are ambitious men and they have young wives who will no doubt give them many sons._

_I have asked Charles if he can invite our Mother and you to France for a few days. I hope you will come, Bessie, for I need you to remind me of what I should be thankful for as I am losing myself to my own treacherous thoughts._

_Cécile Regina._

“Oh she sounds so forlorn,” Elizabeth murmured sympathetically.  “Maybe I should go visit her for a month or two.”  
  
  
“Or a month,” Henry corrected her, giving his wife an annoyed look. “Don’t coddle her. She is a grown woman who has a husband and three-year-old son to comfort her in person and there is nothing wrong with sending a letter to express your condolences especially when she isn't asking you to drop everything and sail to France just so she can be cheered up.”  
  
  
“Your compassion for my sister is touching,” Elizabeth huffed, half-teasing, half-serious. 

 

“Forgive me that I prefer to focus on what is happening in England. It has been four years since I defeated your uncle and while there has only been one revolt, there is still a layer of uncertainty as long as your brothers remain heirless,” Henry pointed out, sounding frustrated.

 

“Henry, you have done much to help my brother but I fail to see how his wife becoming pregnant is any of your concern let alone how you expect to do anything about it,” Elizabeth stated, finding herself becoming a little annoyed at how her husband seemed to feel that being Edward’s right-hand man took precedence over everything. Even now as they sat together, Henry was pouring over letters from the king.

 

“It is my concern because I have spent the majority of my life dealing with the civil war and endless years of uncertainly as our family fought each other for dominance,” Henry snapped. “I could have taken the crown from the Duke of Gloucester and kept it for myself but instead I chose to end the Cousin war and I would rather it not start up again.”

 

“You act as if the entire world is on your shoulders and one day I fear all that stress will be your undoing,” Elizabeth murmured, stroking his arm. “Come with me to France. Let’s spend a lazy month together.”  
  
  
“I am needed here in England, my love, but I’ll tell you what: once you return from France, we shall spend a lazy month at Ewelme Manor instead,” Henry suggested, giving her a rare smile that seemed to light up his usually grave expression. “I give you my word that I will not work for that entire month.”  
  
  
“Well I know you are an honorable man whose promises have yet to be broken,” Elizabeth said lovingly.

  
“Of course, if the King commands me to come to his side, I won’t be able to ignore his summons,” Henry stated.

 

The Duchess of Richmond sighed, knowing she couldn't expect anything less from her loyal, hardworking insufferable husband.

* * *

  ** _May 2 1490_ **

 

Queen Eleanor wondered if it was too early to get her hopes up. After all it was entirely possible that missing her period this month was just a fluke. Perhaps she simply felt ill and that’s why certain smells only made her nausea worse and that’s why she had thrown up every morning for the past fortnight.

 

But the idea that she might be pregnant was too exciting to wait another month. She wanted to know now. However, despite her impatience, Eleanor knew that the last thing she needed was for rumors of her pregnancy to be spread around court only for it to turn out that she wasn’t with child at all, dashing her subjects hope that the royal couple would finally have their Prince of Wales. Even a healthy princess would be enough to silence those who feared that for the succession.

 

Making an excuse that she was feeling too tired (which wasn’t much of an excuse), Eleanor dismissed her ladies, keeping only those she trusted the most by her side. She had her mother summon the royal physician under the guise of making sure her illness was nothing to be concerned about.

 

John Argentine had been Edward’s doctor since he was a child and upon the King’s return to England, he had been promoted to royal physician. He was a kindly old man whose age had not slowed down his mind.

 

He understood why the Queen would make a connection between her missed period, low energy, a strong craving for certain dishes and unusually weak stomach would cause her to come to such a conclusion.

 

After a thorough examination, the doctor agreed that there was a high chance that Eleanor was indeed pregnant.

 

“Unfortunately, Your Majesty, there is no way to be certain,” Dr. Argentine explained, perhaps worried that she might blame him if it turned out that she had never been pregnant in the first place. “Perhaps in a few weeks, I should examine you again just to be sure.”

“But if your examination is correct when should we expect the child to be born?” Maud Percy asked, unable to hold back her excitement at the notion that she was to be a grandmother for the first time of a prince or a princess no less.

 

“Sometime in December, my lady,” the doctor replied.

 

Eleanor dismissed him with a kind thank you and plea to keep this a secret from all. After he left, she could not stop the delighted giggles falling from her lips as she collapsed onto her bed.

 

“I cannot wait to see Edward’s face when I tell him the good news,” Eleanor declared, feeling giddy. “He will be so happy to be a father.”

 

“If you would like, I shall send him a message that you must speak to him at once,” Elizabeth Stafford suggested, certain that the King would drop everything to rush to his wife’s side.

 

“Would that be wise? There is a chance we are celebrating to early,” her sister, Anne, pointed out gently.

 

“No, I am with child. I just know I am,” Eleanor said firmly with a resolute edge to her voice, making it clear that she could not be convinced otherwise. She nodded at Elizabeth Stafford to send a message to Edward.

 

But before Mistress Stafford could even take a step out the door, the herald announced the King’s arrival.

 

“Ali, are you all right? Dr. Argentine told me that you had sworn him to secrecy. What is it? What’s wrong?” Edward asked, sounding terrified as if he feared his wife was deathly ill.

 

When he learnt that his wife had sent for the royal physician, he had summoned the man to his chambers in order to learn what the doctor had found out. But no amount of prodding on his part or empty threats would convince Argentine to break his promise to the queen.

 

Edward was growing more and more paranoid that something terrible must be wrong with his wife. He barely noted the smiles on her ladies’ faces as they cleared the room, allowing the couple to have their privacy.

 

“Oh Ned, come here. Sit down,” Eleanor implored him, taking his hand in hers and pulling him to her bed, fighting back a smile. “I’m all right, my love, I swear. I am just going to be feeling ill for a few months but I promise you it will be for a very good cause.”

 

The monarch stared at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. Then his face lit up and his concerned frown turned into a grin that threatened to split his face in half.

 

“Are you…?”  Edward asked, half-afraid to say the word, least he be proven wrong.

 

“I’m with child, you silly man,” Eleanor giggled. “You are to be a father.”  
  
  
“Oh Ali, this is wonderful. We will have a son. A handsome prince named for my brother,” Edward proclaimed.

 

“Or a daughter,” Eleanor reminded him. She frowned when she saw Edward’s smile slip just for a second. “Would it displease you if we were to have a princess?”

 

“No, no, forgive me. I was just thinking it would be better that if we had a son first,” Edward explained, inwardly kicking himself for such a childish statement. Only God could decide what gender their child would be. He rested his forehead on hers. “If it is a princess, I shall be just as happy, for she will be born from our love.”  
  
  
Eleanor giggled at his poetic words, causing her husband to beam at her.

* * *

  ** _June 29 1490_ **

****

Richmond Castle smelled like sickness and death. Of the five children that lived in the Tudor household, only Charles Brandon and baby Margaret remained healthy. They had to be moved to another manor in fear that they would be infected by the disease plaguing the three other boys.  
  
  
William de la Pole, his brother Richard and Jasper were sick with measles. William had died last night and Richard early this morning. Now only three-year-old Jasper was left and Henry prayed that he would not have to send a letter to his wife to tell her that all three boys were died.

 

Elizabeth loved William and Richard like they were her sons and would be devastated to learn of their deaths.  She would be even worse if their sweet boy died so early in his childhood. 

 

“God will not take him. He is born to be a king,” Lady Margaret whispered. It didn’t seem to occur to her that if the two older boys could not fight off their illness what hope did a toddler have?

 

Henry wondered if she was trying to comfort him or herself. But he ignored her, pretending he had not heard her treasonous words. Instead he paced around the room, needing to do something while he waited for a report from the physician.

 

Almost an hour later, Dr. Miller came in, looking less grave than he had when he made his last report. In fact, he was beaming, giving Henry hope that his boy had beaten the odds.

 

“Your Grace, it is miracle! The Earl of Pembroke’s fever has broken,” the doctor announced. “He is going to get better.”

“Oh this is God’s doing! He has shown---”

 

The Duke of Richmond did not stick around to hear the end of his mother statement. Instead he flew past the doctor, practically sprinting to his son’s room.

 

Jasper was going to live. His son would not taken from him.

 

Henry was not a man who normally succumbed to his emotions but upon reaching his little boy’s bedside and wrapped his arms around that tiny precious pale body, he burst into tears.

 

“Papa,” Jasper rasped, having been startled awake by his father. “Why are you crying?”

 

 

“Because I’m happy that you are going to get better,” Henry explained, wiping away his tears. “You’re going to be okay, my son. I promise you that everything will be all right now.”

 

“Don’t cry, Papa, tears are only for sadness,” Jasper told him, sticking out his chubby hand to dry his father’s wet cheeks.

 

Henry couldn’t help but chuckle as he tussled Jasper’s golden-red hair affectionately.

 

His mother was wrong. Jasper would never be king. But he would live and he would become an advisor and a companion to the future Prince of Wales.

 

But then again, his future was unimportant for now. All that Henry cared about was he would not lose his son. With that thought, he hugged Jasper tighter. 

* * *

  ** _July 14 1490_ **

****

Once the Dowager Queen and the Duchess of Richmond had returned to England, the duchess had gone back to her estates to take care of her recovering son and mourn the loss of her wards. The Queen Dowager, on the other hand came back to court immediately to dote on her pregnant daughter-in-law.

 

Although Edward had yet to make an official announcement, both he and Eleanor had informed their family members. The Percys had been overly jubilant, pleased that they would soon call the Prince of Wales their kin.

 

“How are you feeling dear?” Elizabeth Woodville asked her daughter-in-law, beaming at the sight of the swollen belly of the queen. The way Elizabeth was glowing, anyone would think she was the one carrying the royal baby. “Tired? Are you eating enough? Have you been resting?”

 

“How blessed am I that I have two mothers asking me the same exact questions about my health?” Eleanor jested with only a touch of sarcasm.

 

Maud and Elizabeth chuckled good-naturedly, not at all offended by her thinly veiled complaint.

 

“Forgive me, daughter, but this is my first grandson, how can I not fuss over you both?” Maud questioned rhetorically, stroking her daughter’s hair and kissing her cheek.

 

“And as for me. I gave birth to Edward in sanctuary because the Lancastrians had usurped the throne from my husband,” Elizabeth recalled, a sad look on her face as she remembered those awful days at Westminster abbey full of uncertainty and fear instead of the joy and celebration that should have followed her son’s birth.  “Your son will be born during a time of peace and tranquility.”  
  
  
Eleanor struggled to keep a smile on her face. _A son. A Prince of Wales. A boy._ She was not naïve: she knew how important a male heir was. However, she was sick of people insisting that the child she carried was a son.  Not only were they setting themselves up for disappointment if come Christmastide, she had a daughter but it was also unfair to act as though it had to be a prince at least the first time around.

After all in a time of peace and tranquility, a healthy princess was just as good as a healthy son. As Edward had said, they were young and would have many children. None of whom would ever have to experience something men trying to usurp their position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, I wonder what I'm foreshadowing.  
> I'm sorry I killed off the remaining de la Poles but my story just had no place for them.


	4. A Time of Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and Edward become fathers. The Duke of Richmond thinks about his decisions and the important relationship he was formed.

**_November 2 1490_ **

****

November was cold and dreary but the frigid weather bothered the men and women of the English court little as they focused instead on the upcoming royal birth. The day when the Queen would give birth was getting closer and the King was making preparations were being made for the little Prince of Wales or a Princess. Although everyone was wishing for a Crown Prince, many agreed with Queen Eleanor that a healthy girl would just as good.

 

“After all, you and Her Majesty are young, barely even twenty,” Henry remarked, while his tone was gruff there was an ounce of fond amusement. “If it is girl this time, it will be a boy next time. Not to mention, you do have three older sisters. Try to have some patience.”

 

“You know that is very easy for you to say,” King Edward muttered with faux-annoyance before sobering. “I’m not saying I would be upset if I were to have a daughter, I just want to prove to be capable of siring healthy heirs.”

 

“There are not a lot of things I respect your father for but at least he knew that the opinions of the sheep matter little to a lion,” Henry told him sternly.

 

“Is that your roundabout way of telling me to stop worrying about what others think and just focus on my wife and unborn child?” Edward asked, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Once he found Henry’s bluntness annoying and disrespectful but now it was refreshing and sometimes even humorous. In an odd way, it was rather touching that his brother-in-law felt he could always be honest with Edward. Besides, he knew the Duke of Richmond would never dream of talking to him like that in public.

 

“Well I might have phrased it a little less diplomatically in my head but yes that is what I mean,” Henry replied. “Furthermore, you could have a thousand sons and still be a weak man. You should be judged by your actions or your strength of character not on what you can and cannot accomplish.” 

 

Edward decided not to point out that it was very easy for Henry to say as not only did he have a son but he had also won a war and instead of taking the crown for himself, he handed it back to the rightful owner. How could anyone compete with such noble actions?

* * *

When the Duke of York strode into the Queen’s apartments, Eleanor didn’t think twice about dismissing her ladies. She knew that the proper etiquette demanded that she have at least one remain as chaperone so she wouldn’t be alone with a man who was not her husband or one of her male relatives but she felt that because she viewed Dickon and Thomas as she did her brothers, and as long as Ned didn’t object, they should be free to speak to her privately.

 

However now that the Queen was big with child---just a week from when she would have to go into confinement, she realized that at least one of her ladies should stay with them just in case she needed anything so she requested Thomas Grey’s wife, Cecily Bonville to stay with them.

 

“You know I never quite believed the notion that woman glowed when they were with child and yet here you are, looking as though you have with the sun inside of you,” Richard complimented as he took a seat adjacent to her.

 

“The way everyone is acting, I might as well be. You should hear them, Dickon, insisting I shall birth a Christmastide child as though I was the Holy Mary carrying Christ,” Eleanor said with a frown. “It upsets me because I just know these will be the same people who will disappointed in me if I have a princess instead. God forbid I birth a stillborn.” The Queen made the cross sign, hoping that she had not just spoken that horrible possibility into existence.

 

“Ali, I know Edward can get in his own head about what’s expected of him but I promise you that he will not be disappointed if you have a daughter instead of a son,” Richard assured her gently, guessing that Eleanor cared less what anyone at court thought about her having a daughter. It was Edward’s reaction she was worried about. “You know how Ned can get. He acts as if something goes wrong, the whole world might collapse. But even if he would prefer a boy, he loves you and your unborn child too much to be upset over a thing like that. He’ll be a good father.”

 

“Well considering what a good brother and husband he is, I have no doubt about that, I assure you,” Eleanor jested, smiling now that her spirts had been lifted by the image of her husband’s face when he would see their baby for the first time. Whatever child she had, Edward would love them with his whole heart.

 

Richard smiled as he nodded his head in agreement. Edward was always a good brother. He could still remember that fateful night, the Duke of Buckingham’s men had come to the Tower, terrifying the two preteen boys as the men took the Tower of London by force. They had no idea why the Duke of Buckingham’s men were attacking and Richard feared for their safety.

* * *

_**June 15 1483** _

 

" _We are going to die here!” the Duke of York cried, curling up in a fetal position and then covering himself with his blanket as he tried to shut out the sounds of swords clashing. “They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?”_

_His older brother climbed into his bed, pulling the quivering boy into a warm hug that reminded Richard of their father’s embrace._

_“Hush, Dickon, it’s going to be okay. Uncle Richard won’t let anything happen to us,” Edward whispered firmly._

_“Then why won’t he let us leave? Why won’t he let Mama and our sisters visit us?” Richard demanded, burying his face in his brother’s lap. He was not yet ten but even he had picked up on their uncle’s strange actions. “I’m so scared, Ned, that we will never leave the Tower of London alive.”_

_“Dickon, do you trust me?” Edward asked._

_“Yes,” Dickon replied without any hesitation, looking up at his brother, his eyes shining with unshed tears._

_“Then trust me when I say we will get through this. As long as I draw breath, I won’t let anyone hurt you, Dickon,” Edward swore. “I make this promise to you as both your king and your brother.”_

_The Duke of York opened his mouth to respond when they heard a door open. Richard squeezed his eyes shut, afraid that it was someone coming to kill them both. Edward stiffened as he glanced around the room, looking for the intruder._

_“Ned, Dickon, come here quickly,” a voice behind a velvet curtain hissed urgently._

_“It’s Tom,” Edward whispered to Dickon in case he could not recognize their oldest half-brother’s voice. Of all the people they could trust, the boys knew for certain, they could trust their brothers._

_The fighting was still going on outside but the two boys still crept across the creaky floorboards, fearing that someone would hear the noise their feet made and come and investigate._

_When they reached Thomas, the Marquess of Dorset, they immediately hugged him, glad to finally see a friendly face.  Thomas led them into a secret passageway, being sure that curtain was still covering the hidden door._

 

_“Come. There’s not much time and we have to get you two on a boat to France,” Thomas told them as he led them down the dimly lit corridor._

_“Wait, what about Mama and our sisters? Are they coming too?” Dickon asked hopefully._

_“They will meet us in France but for right now, I am more concerned about getting you both away from England,” Thomas explained. “It’s not safe for you here.”_

_“But I am England’s King. I shouldn’t leave my country,” Edward pointed out, his brow furrowed in confusion._

_“It’s Uncle Richard, isn’t it? He wants to be King instead of Ned,” Richard guessed._

_Thomas didn’t answer but the dark scowl on his face spoke volumes.  “It doesn’t matter. He’s not the true King of England and someday you will return to reclaim what is rightfully yours,” he promised._

 

_Edward said nothing and when the three of them stepped out into the moonlight, Richard could see apprehension on his brother’s face as he feared what the future what in store for them._

* * *

  ** _November 22 1490_ **

 

The road to Buckinghamshire was thankfully clear of snow and ice but judging from the dark clouds in the sky that might change within the next few hours, a thought that made Prince Richard spur his horse to go faster, not wanting to have to spend the night at the Bryan manor.

 

Of course, he was certain that if he had to stay, the knight and his wife would play the part of gracious hosts. But it would be terribly awkward if he stayed especially when he had no doubt that they anticipating his arrival with a bit of dread.

 

Richard had not planned on going to visit the Bryans. In fact, he was willing to respect Margaret’s wish that he left her, her husband and their new baby in peace, allowing the child to remain ignorant that they were possibly the bastard of the Duke of York, allowing Thomas and Margaret Bryan’s reputation not be marred by the lady’s affair with the young prince.

 

But yesterday, Richard had written to Sir Thomas Bryan on a whim, letting him know that he would be making a short visit. He had not included why, unwilling to humiliate the man by reminding him further that his wife had an affair with the Duke of York. Despite not hinting the reason, Richard was certain that the Bryans were aware of the true nature of his visit: he wanted to see the baby.

 

Richard could not say why he had suddenly decided to seek out the child who was born a few months ago. He had barely given his former lover much thought let alone the babe she carried. 

 

Perhaps it had been Edward’s decision to make him godfather of the unborn prince or princess that made him yearn to lay eyes on his own child. Maybe it was the knowledge that he would not experience fatherhood for at least eleven years if not more.

 

Whatever it was, Richard just wanted to see the child who may or may not be his for no other reason than to put his curious mind at ease. He had no intention of acknowledging the child but he just wanted to see it. Surely no one, not even Sir Thomas Bryan could fault him for wanting that much.

 

It thankfully had not started snowing when Richard and his grooms arrived at the manor. Despite the bitter cold, Sir Thomas stood outside to greet them. He waited patiently for the men to dismount their horses before bowing deeply, doffing his cap in out of respect for the seventeen-year-old prince.

 

Richard couldn’t help but wonder if Sir Thomas was merely hiding his true feelings of disgust and dislike towards his wife’s former lover. If so, the man was a consummate actor as he greeted Richard as if he was an honored guest without so much of a flicker of embarrassment or bitterness.

 

“Your Highness, I am humbled by your visit,” Sir Bryan greeted him as he led the men inside, ordering a servant to bring the horses to the stable.  “I beg your pardon but my wife is indisposed and unable to greet you.”

Had it been any other woman besides the prideful Margaret Bryan, Richard might have thought she was only pretending to be ill to avoid meeting with him. However he was aware that Margaret was not a woman who took the rules of etiquette lightly and she would not have shirked her duty as hostess merely to avoid being in the same room as her former lover.

 

“I am sorry to hear that. I hope she will feel better,” Richard remarked politely. He chewed his lip thoughtfully as he tried to choose his next words carefully, wanting to bring up this topic delicately without upsetting the older man. “I hear that congratulations are in order for you both.”

 

Thomas Bryan’s smile slipped and he stiffened slightly but he continued to keep his tone pleasant as he spoke. “Yes my wife and I have been blessed with a son. We have named him Francis,” he announced.

 

“Francis,” Richard repeated. An odd choice for an English babe but a good name nonetheless. “If it is not too much trouble, might I see him?”

 

Sir Bryan complied with no hesitation or reluctance as he lead Richard to the nursery. The Duke of York ordered his grooms to remain outside the chamber as they entered the room.

 

Moments later, Richard studied the infant in the crib, trying to determine if the boy shared any features with him.

 

Francis Bryan had a mop of fair hair on his head and Richard could swear that his nose looked exactly like the late King Edward’s nose. This boy was his son, the Duke of York could not doubt it.

_What man would want to take care of a baby his wife conceived with another man?_

With his brother’s words echoing in his mind, Richard turned around towards Thomas Bryan.

 

“Sir Thomas, Francis is a fine looking boy, I hope you will be a good father to him,” Richard said with a slight warning in his tone. He would not be pleased if he ever found out that his son was being mistreated by his stepfather.

 

A flash of outrage crossed Thomas Bryan’s face, objecting to the implication that he wouldn’t be a good father.

 

“He is my son and I shall love him as I would any other son of mine,” Thomas Bryan stated firmly. He must have thought he was being rude because he bowed and spoke his next words deferentially: “I will do my best to provide him with everything he needs to be a gentleman worthy of the English court.”  
  
  
“Good. Here, I brought a gift that I hope will help,” Richard told him, taking out a money purse which he had stuffed to the brim with enough coins that was equal to at least two years of the knight’s pension.

 

“Thank you, Your Highness, you are too kind,” Sir Bryan complimented him gratefully as he took the money purse eagerly.

 

Richard looked back at Francis, he tentatively took a few steps towards the cradle and bent down, reaching out to lay his hand on the baby’s head. But as if he sensed that a stranger was about to touch him, Francis let out a piercing wail, causing Richard to take a step back in shock and despair that he had done something to upset the babe.

 

Francis’ wet nurse came scurrying in, plucking the child out of his crib and hurrying into another chamber, curtsying and apologizing to Richard before she left.

 

“I believe he was just hungry, Your Highness, if you wish to hold him, I do not think he will be long if you wish to stay and get to know him,” Sir Thomas said gently.

 

“No, I think I should be going now,” Richard decided. “Please give my well wishes to Lady Margaret.”

 

With that, the Duke of York walked briskly out of the nursery. It was best if he didn’t get to attached to the boy anyway. Perhaps when the boy was older, they could form some sort of bound but for now, he would leave things the way they were.

 

After bidding goodbye to Sir Thomas and getting horses for him and his entourage, Richard rode off away from the Bryan manor. 

 

The sky was still dark with clouds but there was no sign of snow thankfully. Still, Richard spurred his horse to go faster. He didn’t want to look back. He had made his decision and besides, Francis had a father to care for him.

 

He didn’t need Richard. It would just be simpler for all involved if he never found out that he was the son of the Duke of York.

 

Not that any of these perfectly logical thoughts were helping the sick sensation of guilt that was churning in Richard’s stomach.

 

Everyone thought he was so much like his father but would the late King Edward have been able to leave his bastard behind even if he had a good reason to do so?

* * *

  ** _November 29 1490_ **

****

The Earl of Northumberland was a fool and a child. After his father’s death, he was the head of the Percy clan and despite not even being fourteen, he tried to act as though his status as the Queen’s brother gave him the right to command men who were older and wiser than him.

 

The tone of his letter was barely polite and almost demanding. He insisted that as their families would soon be bound in matrimony, the Duke of Richmond should request that the King turn his earldom into a dukedom. 

 

Henry rolled his eyes as he penned a short and polite reply, stating however pleased he was that one day his daughter would marry into the Percy family (something that was quickly becoming a lie), he was sorry to say that he had no control over the King’s decisions to grant titles.

 

If the boy had any sense, he would accept that and simply wait for Edward to decide whether or not he should make the title of Northumberland a duchy. There were rumors that if the Queen had a son, the Percy family would receive many honors as rewards for their relative’s achievement.

 

In Henry’s opinion, that was rather silly to reward a family just because their daughter proved to be fertile. Not to mention, favoring one family above the rest had not worked out too well the last time so perhaps it would best not to do so again.

 

However, at the end of the day---as he constantly reminded Henry Percy--- it was Edward’s decision. Thankfully the monarch had a good head on his shoulders and he would never let his emotions get the better of him.

 

The Duke of Richmond smiled as he thought of the young King who was due to be a father soon. It seemed like just yesterday, Henry and his Uncle Jasper had arrived at a French castle to ask for an audience with the boy king.

 

When Henry had learned that King Edward, his siblings and their mother had fled to France, he had thought it would be the perfect chance to gain an alliance against the usurper, King Richard.

 

However, he had not made up his mind about what would happen after Richard was defeated. Would he then turn on his allies to make sure that the Lancastrians would regain their stolen crown?

 

Then he entered the audience chamber and he had laid eyes on King Edward for the first time.

 

The boy was only thirteen, he was a child, barely on the cusp of manhood, not even out of the schoolroom. His father’s crown would have been too big for his head. He was so tiny compared to his uncle and Henry. How could this boy be expected to take on the heavy chains of commands?

 

King Edward’s face was chubby and babyish but his eyes were sharp and clear. He spoke with gravity and he held his head high. A child he might have been but it was clear that he knew what was expected of him and he would not do any less.

 

He wanted to be a good king and all he needed was guidance. He needed a mentor, a teacher---

 

_A father figure._

When Henry kneeled in front of the boy king, he decided that he would be that guide. He would protect and mentor the boy as his uncle had done for him.

 

Although Henry would never admit it, as the years went by, he began to see Edward as a son. A son who no longer needed his guidance and yet still had the humility to ask for it, making the Duke of Richmond feel proud and certain he had made the right decision that fateful day in France.

* * *

  **_December 30 1490_**

 

Maud Percy held her daughter’s hand tightly. “Push, Ali,” she whispered. “You are doing so well.” Her daughter had gone into labor in the late hours of the morning and now it was almost midnight so she was certain that her grandson would be born soon.

 

“If you say push one more time, I just might just slap you,” Queen Eleanor muttered through gritted teeth. She squeezed her mother’s hand as she experienced another contraction.

 

“You are almost done,” Maud assured her daughter, stroking her matted hair. “And it will be worth it.”

 

Finally the contractions stopped and Eleanor could fall back onto the bed, closing her eyes as she heard the familiar slap and cry. She waited patiently for the midwife to cut the umbilical cord and clean the baby up.

 

“Your Majesty has given birth to a healthy princess,” the midwife decreed.

 

Eleanor propped herself up and extended her arms, wordlessly commanding the woman to place her daughter in her arms. She didn’t bother looking at her ladies’ faces, keeping her eyes on the only person who mattered.

 

If everyone expected her to be disappointed that she had a princess instead of a prince than that was their folly.

 

“Someone go make the announcement and then give the order that the bells are to be rung,” Eleanor demanded as she studied the newborn babe wrapped up in a blanket.

 

“Your Majesty, I don’t think the King---” Anne Stafford began.

 

“My husband will want all of England to celebrate the birth of a new princess: our daughter,” Eleanor cut her off curtly, her head snapping upwards to glare at her lady-in-waiting for daring to contradict her.

 

A few minutes passed before Edward entered his wife’s bedchambers, dismissing her ladies so he could have a moment alone with her and their daughter.

 

“She is beautiful,” Edward murmured. “May I hold her?”

 

Eleanor gave him a funny look. “Well she is your daughter, my lord, I would think that alone would give you permission to hold her.”

 

“Forgive me but she is so tiny, I’m afraid I might drop her,” Edward admitted, chuckling as he sat down next to her. His wife smiled at him before maneuvering their daughter so she could comfortable fit in her father’s arms.

 

“Don’t forget to support her head,” Eleanor commanded him softly, recalling her mother’s words when she had first held one of her younger siblings.

 

“I am. Don’t worry, I’ve got her,” Edward agreed, smiling down at their daughter before looking back at his wife. “Ali, I wanted to apologize. I know that I said I would prefer a boy but I shouldn't have put such pressure on you. Henry is right. We’re both young and it was silly of me to assume that we needed a son right away.”

 

“We live in a time of peace, my love, and I think that our girl is perfect start to what I know will be a golden era,” Eleanor gushed, kissing Edward’s cheek. “But first, she needs a name.” 

 

“Now that will be easy. Princess Eleanor, of course,” Edward decided at once. “What other name is more suitable than her mother’s?”

 

Eleanor beamed at him, touched by his words.

 

As if she knew she was being talked about, the newly born and named princess opened her eyes and gurgled which her parents took as her saying hello to them.

 

The bells started ringing less than an hour latter and the courtiers celebrated the new princess quite loudly but it didn’t seem to disturb the sleeping Queen and Princess. Edward smiled as he wrapped his free arm around his wife.

 

She was right as always. This was a good beginning to what would hopefully be a good future.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept going back and forth but then I decided that it would work better for my story if Eleanor had a girl first.  
> The next chapter will begin in June 28 1491. Gee, I wonder why?


	5. Mothers and Sons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Henry Tudor is a joyous occasion especially to his grandmother. After a disturbing dream, Elizabeth decides to recruit her son in keeping any eye on the Tudor family. Eleanor and Edward remain happy despite the tension going on in court.

**_June 28 1491_ **

****

“Congratulations Your Grace, the duchess has given birth to healthy baby boy,” the midwife announced much to Henry’s joy. While he was certain some might view his pleasure as him gloating that he had two sons while Elizabeth’s brothers had none, he was earnestly just happy to have another son who would carry on the Tudor name.

 

“Mistress Brandon, would you fetch Jasper and Margaret?” he requested. “I am sure that they will be eager to meet their new brother.”

 

“Right away, Your Grace,” the woman replied, curtsying before hurrying off to fetch the Earl of Pembroke and his sister.

 

“This will certainly upset the Dowager Queen,” Lady Margaret remarked snidely, her lips curled up in a smirk. “Her precious boy has yet to father a son while you have two sons. This is God’s doing, Henry. He wants---”

 

“Mother, enough!” Henry exclaimed, fed up with his mother’s insistence that he was destined to be king. “I have made my decision; it’s high time that you accept that I will never be king.”

 

“You may have made your decision, Henry, but God has a plan for the Tudors to restore the house of Lancaster to their rightful places on the throne of England whether you like it or not,” Margaret snapped, an affronted look on her face as she stalked off. Perhaps she had gone to the chapel in order to pray for God to make Henry see it her way.

 

The Duke of Richmond sighed but he didn’t bother going after his mother, choosing instead to go into the birth chambers to greet his wife and their newborn son. If his mother wanted to cling to her fantasies than that was her business.

 

Right now, he had more important business to attend to.

* * *

The Duke of Richmond prided himself as being a stoic man whose expression was always guarded. However his wife had always been able to see right through him, as if she could hear his thoughts loud and clear.

 

“I take it your mother is pleased that we have a second son,” Elizabeth guessed, her lips pressed together thinly, clearly fed up with her mother-in-law’s attitude as much as her husband was. Perhaps even more so as it was her brother that Lady Margaret was trying to undermine.

 

“I suspect that she is as pleased as your mother is not,” Henry muttered, as he walked over to the bed, sitting down at he examined the babe in his wife’s arms.

 

“How can you say a thing like that? My mother would be pleased to have another grandson,” Elizabeth told him firmly, her eyes wide at the implication that Elizabeth Woodville would not love her newest grandbaby.

 

The Duchess of Richmond wasn’t stupid, while her younger brothers remained sonless, her sons would be too high up in the line of succession for comfort of those who suspected that her husband would one day fight for the crown. 

 

She also knew that her mother was among those people who did not trust Henry but surely she would not extend that mistrust towards two innocent boys who were her own flesh and blood.

 

“Beth, you know your mother does not trust me. After all she’s been through, after the countless betrayals by ambitious men your father trusted, I don’t blame her,” Henry said softy, trying convey that he was not criticizing the Dowager Queen even there was a tiny part of him that felt after all he had done for Edward, he deserved the trust his mother-in-law denied him.

 

“All right, she doesn’t trust you or your mother for that matter but her own grandchildren? Do you really think she capable of hating them?” Elizabeth asked. As if he could feel his mother’s distress, the newborn boy in her arms started wailing, waving his tiny fists as if he was attempting to attack whoever was upsetting her. “Ssssh, sweetheart, it’s all right. Don’t cry.”

 

Henry could not help but smile as his son was soothed by his mother’s sweet voice and her tender kiss to his forehead. “It seems that he is a mother’s boy just like his uncles,” he jested, hoping this would lighten the grim mood he had inadvertently caused.

 

“And his father,” Elizabeth teased before beaming at her husband. “He is already quite the little warrior too. I think there is only one name for him: Henry.”

 

“Another Henry Tudor,” Henry said approvingly, reaching out to caress the baby’s face. “My son.”

 

A few moments of silence passed as the two parents just lay there with the newly named Henry Tudor in-between them. “Henry, do you think the Cousin War will happen again?” Elizabeth asked softly.

 

“I don’t know but I promise you, Beth, I will do everything in my power to avoid another civil war,” Henry assured her. “Jasper, Margaret and Henry will grow up with their cousins to the point where they will be more like siblings. And maybe their bounds will be strong enough to avoid any fractions from stirring up trouble.”

 

Elizabeth nodded thinking that was a good plan. After all, that was what they had hoped to do with the former Duke of Suffolk’s young sons before they passed away. Not to mention having her children be raised with the royal children meant they would be far away from Lady Margaret’s influence.  

 

However, Elizabeth couldn’t help but think of her two uncles who had loved their brother so much (and in Uncle Richard’s case he had never stopped), only to turn against him in hopes of taking the throne for themselves.

 

But surely her sons were not capable of doing something like that. Surely they would love their uncles and cousins and they would like act as loyal advisors like their father before them.

 

Baby Henry gurgled, his hand catching a clump of his mother’s hair and he tugged on it which Elizabeth took as assurance that he would be loyal and would never betray his mother’s family.

* * *

  ** _July 1 1491_ **

****

Edward was thrilled when he received a letter from the Duke of Richmond, reporting that he had another nephew.

 

“They’ve called him Henry, Mother, and they have decided to go with Tom and his wife as the boy’s godparents. Although I understand that I was Jasper’s godfather, I must confess to being a little disappointed that I was not chosen this time as I had made them godparents of sweet Ellie,” Edward jested. Little Eleanor was only a few months old but she was the apple of her father’s eyes. Edward suddenly frowned when he saw the grim expression on his mother’s face. “Is something amiss, Mother?”

 

Elizabeth Woodville quickly plastered a smile on her face but Edward could see it didn’t reach her eyes. “Nothing, my sweet boy. I’m just thinking sad thoughts,” she explained.

 

While that might be true, the king had a feeling that there was something else bothering her. “Mother, I understand that you don’t trust the Tudors but you aren’t suspicious of children, Lizzie’s children, your grandchildren, are you?"

 

“Edward, I love all my grandchildren but you have to understand that Lady Margaret Beoufort has always believed that her son was destined to be king. Even when he was just a boy, Henry Tudor spent countless years fighting for Lancastrians,” Elizabeth pointed out, trying to get him to understand that sort of mentality just didn’t go away. She was certain that the man her son counted on had some sort of plot planned to undermine Edward and push himself and his sons forward as better candidates for the throne of England.    

 

And even if he was loyal to Edward, the Duke of Gloucester had proved that one could be loyal to their king but not their king’s heirs. She feared that if Edward died only a short while after fathering a son or if worse came to worse and Princess Eleanor was his only heir than Henry Tudor would usurp St. Edward’s crown before Edward’s body was even cold.

 

That thought alone was enough to send shivers through her body.

 

“As you said, he has been fighting us since he was a boy. When he defeated Uncle Richard at the Battle of Bosworth Field, he could have kept the crown. After all, he could have easily said he had won the throne through conquest and considering his army was made up of mostly Lancastrian allies, no one would have stopped him,” Edward remarked, before letting out a heavy sigh. Even years later, he couldn’t help but feel that he should have been at Henry’s side fighting for his crown. “Mother, even if you cannot bring yourself to trust him or your own grandsons for that matter, at least trust my judgment.”

 

“Edward, you know I have complete faith in you,” Elizabeth murmured, reaching up to stroke his cheek only for Edward to grab her hand, not roughly but firm enough to prevent her from touching him.

 

“I’m not a child anymore, my Lady Mother, I am a grown man who can make his own decisions,” Edward said softly with an edge of sternness in his voice. He loved his mother more than anyone in this world but he was no longer a boy who ran into her arms, seeking protection and comfort in her warm embrace.

 

“No, you are not a child,” Elizabeth agreed, slipping her hand from his grasp. “but you are my son and I will never not fear for your well being even though you have grown up into a wise man and king like your father before you.” She curtsied to him as if to prove her point. “If it pleases you, I wish to take my leave so I may write to Lizzie and congratulate her.”

 

Edward nodded and his mother left his chambers, a strained smile on her face as she walked through the corridors, nodding automatically to the courtiers who bowed and curtsied to her; her mind thinking of when she and her daughters had arrived in France all those years ago.

 

He had needed her arms around him, he had needed her assurance that everything would fine and that he would be a king like his father. Now it seemed that he needed nothing from her, preferring to seek out his wife and his brothers for comfort and guidance.

 

He was no longer a boy who would run into his mother’s arms and although she was proud of the man he had become, it made Elizabeth’s heart ache.

* * *

  ** _June 30 1483_ **

_The French King or rather his sister and regent had arranged for the reunion to take place in Calais as it was the only English territory left in France. His retinue greeted the former English Queen and her four daughters as they departed the merchant ship that had smuggled them from England to their safe haven in France._

_Elizabeth tried to keep a pleasant smile on her face as they traveled by carriage to the royal castle in Calais, trying to keep the atmosphere light even if her true feelings were much darker._

_Inside her emotions were a mess of grief, fear and outrage. Her husband, her Edward was dead. Her other Richard had been executed along with his uncle, her oldest brother.  The murderous Duke of Gloucester--- who had once claimed to love the late King Edward and that unlike their older brother he would always be loyal to him--- had dared to make his nephews and nieces bastards just so he could claim the throne for himself. Only God knew what he had planned for little Edward and Richard had they not been smuggled to France. She was afraid for her youngest daughter Bridget who had been left behind in England in the care of the nuns of Dartford Priory. Elizabeth had not wanted to leave her behind but they had to flee quickly and besides as a future bride of Christ, Bridget would be of no consequence to that ambitious knave, God willing. But while her other children and she were technically safe from enemy hands, that did not mean their future was any less uncertain._

_They arrived at the castle by mid-afternoon and were greeted by the French court and there standing beside the French King was Elizabeth’s three boys, looking as relived to see her and their sisters as they were to see them._

_While his older brothers greeted the newcomers formally, the Duke of York could not control his emotions and he took off running, throwing himself at his mother who was only too happy to wrap her arms around him, hugging him close as she succumbed to tears._

_King Edward (no matter what Richard said: he was the true King of England) was clearly trying to fight following his brother’s example but once he saw his mother’s tears, he could not help himself and he too ran into his mother’s embrace._

_“It’s all right, my dear ones. You are safe now. Your mama’s here and I will never let you go again,” Elizabeth promised her sons._

_Edward pulled away first, looking embarrassed and almost angry at himself for becoming so emotional. Despite this he did not let go of his mother’s hand. Richard on the other hand, still clung to his mother as she rose from the ground. Elizabeth smiled warmly, first at Thomas and then at the little French King who she curtsied to, making sure not to knock Richard to the ground as she did so._

_“I cannot thank you Your Majesty enough for your kindness and generosity for giving me and my children asylum,” Elizabeth said earnestly._

_“It is our pleasure, Your Majesty. I can only hope that this will be the start of a new friendship between England and France,” King Charles declared, smiling widely, his tone and expression were one of boyish glee. His grin only grew when his eyes fell on Cecily._

_After some official greetings and introductions, Elizabeth and her daughters were led into the castle so they could get settled in their apartments (they would only be spending the night before moving on to Paris)._

_Once the Dowager Queen had changed out of her traveling clothes she decided to visit her children separately, starting with Edward._

_Luckily she didn’t have to go far as her new steward announced that the King of England wished to call on her._

_Edward waited until they were completely alone before running into his mother’s arms._

_“Is it true?” he demanded abruptly, unshed tears shinning in his eyes. “Am I really a bastard?”_

_“Of course that’s not true. Where on Earth did you hear such nonsense?” Elizabeth asked, although she already had an idea of why Edward would come to that conclusion._

_Richard had been spreading lies throughout England that his brother had been married before he married Elizabeth, making their marriage null and void and their children were illegitimate. Something that quite conveniently made him his brother’s heir and therefore the true King of England._

_“Charles told me that some courtiers were gossiping about it. He said that if Father really was married to another lady, then your marriage to Father wasn’t a true one and that’s why Uncle Richard was allowed to declare himself king,” Edward explained, too upset to refer to Charles by his proper title._

_“I promise you that your father was never married to anyone before me and that our marriage was real. You are the true King of England and nothing anyone can say while ever change that,” Elizabeth declared passionately. “And one day, you will return to England and prove everyone who doubts you that you will be a great monarch just like your father.”_

_“But what if I don’t? What if I fail?” Edward asked, tears leaking out of his eyes. “What if England never accepts me as king?”_

_Elizabeth chewed her lip thoughtfully, not sure if the concept of divine right would make him feel better._

_“They will want you for you are your father’s son and once we have disposed of your traitorous uncle, your subjects will cheer your homecoming. I promise you this,” Elizabeth assured him, stroking his face._

_Edward didn’t look completely convinced but he seemed soothed somewhat by his mother comforting words and her warm embrace._

_He might be king but he still needed his mother and there was a part of Elizabeth that couldn’t help but be happy for that._

* * *

  ** _August 17 1491_ **

****

“Not even a year old and our daughter seems to be the most wanted woman in all of Europe,” Edward declared, kissing the chubby hand of the infant in his wife’s arms. The baby giggled as her mother began bouncing her up and down.

 

“Well she is a precious cherub and I am not surprised that she already has many potential suitors lining up at her door for she is such a breathtaking beauty,” Eleanor gushed, overdramatically waving her hand while keeping a tight hold on her daughter as she did so.  

 

Edward chuckled at his wife’s silliness, stroking the little bit of golden-red hair on his daughter’s head which was continuing to grow longer as she grew older.

 

“I have been discussing possible suitors with the council and the Duke of Richmond believes that King John of Denmark’s son is the perfect candidate for a bridegroom,” Edward explained.

 

“And what do you believe?” Eleanor asked, feeling slightly irked by the fact that once again Richmond had made a decision and her husband just decided to agree with it as though he was the king and Edward was just his advisor.

 

It wasn’t that Eleanor distrusted Henry Tudor. In fact, aside from Thomas and of course Elizabeth, she was probably the only member of Edward’s close circle who believed that Henry had Edward’s best interests at heart.

 

However, while she didn’t think that Henry had as much power over Edward as her brother frequently claimed he did, she still thought that perhaps Edward was too reliant on Henry’s opinion.

 

“I believe our daughter would make a fine Queen,” Edward replied, still beaming at her as if there was no reason why she should be upset that he was already arranging the marriage of their daughter who wasn’t even out of the cradle yet.

 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too early to be discussing Eleanor’s marriage. She’s only a babe,” Eleanor pointed out, moving her daughter closer to her as if she was afraid Edward would pluck the princess from Eleanor’s arms, taking her away so the queen would never be able to see her again.

 

“It’s only negotiations for a betrothal agreement, my love, it isn’t as though I’m sending Eleanor away tomorrow. She won’t go to Denmark until she fourteen, I promise,” Edward assured her.  

 

“I know that but the idea of loosing her when we just got her is not one I want to have to think of. I suppose I’m acting a bit silly,” Eleanor said with a heavy sigh. Although she still couldn’t bear the thought of parting with her baby girl, she knew that even if she wasn’t a royal princess, Eleanor would still be married off for either diplomatic or financial gain for her family even if she was sent to live far away from all those she knew and loved. However, it would be at least fourteen years before she had to deal with that so perhaps she should be more like Edward and not fret about it.

 

“Ali, I think we might have switched places,” Edward said in mock surprise. “I’ve become the lighthearted one who is focusing on the positives the future will hold while you have become the brooding one.”

 

“I am not brooding,” Eleanor lied, looking away so her husband couldn’t see her expression.

 

“Yes, you are and I think that means I must take it upon myself to make my beautiful queen smile,” Edward declared, scooping his daughter up in his arms. “Come my little peach, we must cheer up your mother. Perhaps we should dance for her.”

 

“Oh I know she’s too young to dance,” Eleanor laughed. Edward just held their daughter in his arms as he began to prance around the chamber, acting as though he was dancing without a partner, causing Eleanor to burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh my goodness. What would your brothers think if they could see you now?” she wondered as she struggled to breathe.

 

“Knowing them, they’d probably never let me live it down,” Edward told her, stopping so he could kiss her. “But as long as I’ve made you smile. I don’t care.”

 

“Well you certainly succeeded in that respect, Ned,” Eleanor replied, putting a hand to mouth in hopes of stifling her giggling fit. The little princess cooed from her father’s arms either wanting to be recognized at helping her father cheer up her mother or perhaps expressing disappointment in her father having stopped dancing with her. “I think Elle wants you to continue.”

 

“Well who am I to ignore a request from a lovely princess,” Edward remarked, resuming his antics even twirling a few times to Eleanor’s delight.

 

“Hopefully soon, she will be joined by a sibling,” Eleanor remarked, almost without thinking.

 

“Was that an announcement or a thinly-veiled rebuke that I have been spending too many nights away from you?” Edward asked, having a feeling that wasn’t an announcement.

 

“Neither. I am just giving you an added incentive to come to my bedchambers even when you feel you won’t be good company. And I hardly noticed the four nights you spent away from me,” Eleanor teased him good-naturedly before hasting to assure him when she saw his guilty expression. “I’m just joking, Ned. All I meant was I hope that she will have another sibling soon because as much as I love her, I want to have a son to name after his father like Eleanor is named for me.” 

 

“And the fact that he would be the Prince of Wales is only a bonus,” Edward jested, not quite buying his wife simply wanting a son who would take after his father as much as their daughter took after Eleanor. While Eleanor tried her best not to be pressured by the fact that Edward needed a male heir, that didn’t mean she was unaware of that until she did have one, everyone would be on edge.

 

“I suppose it would be,” Eleanor agreed, shooting Edward a smile. “But that is not something I shall plan on troubling myself with.” She then got up and extended her arms. “May I cut in?”

 

Edward obliged and smiled as his wife began to dance with their daughter in her arms. A perfect picture of loveliness in his humble opinion.

* * *

  ** _October 22 1492_ **

 

It was growing colder in England and many courtiers were making good use of their rations of firewood. As for the Duke of York, he had found himself another way to warm his bed during the cold days of autumn.

 

Anne Hastings, the Countess of Shrewsbury was only two-years-older than Richard but like Margaret Bryan, she was fully experienced, making the Prince quite pleased to have her as his bedmate.

 

It wasn’t that Richard actively sought out older and married women. But the young maidens of court were too unexperienced to keep his interest for anything more than a one-night stand.

 

“My husband is not happy about this. He is thinking of sending me from court,” Anne told him as Richard kissed her neck hungrily, groping her breasts.

 

“Well we can’t have that,” Richard moaned as Anne rubbed against him, inflaming his desire for her. “Do you think a purse of a hundred shillings would convince him to change his plans?”

 

“I don’t know. But I think if you were to give him the deed to your manor in Shrewsbury, he would be grateful enough to allow you to have me whenever you wanted,” Anne replied, pushing him down and straddling him, looking like a vixen ready to pounce on her prey.

 

“Madam, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you are using me,” Richard remarked.

 

“Do I not please you, my lord?” Lady Hastings inquired as she positioned herself right above Richard’s groin, rubbing against it and letting out a lusty moan as Richard thrust himself into her.

 

“I would say so,” he groaned as he grabbed the edges of the bed to balance himself as he continued to impale her. There came a furious knocking on the door. “NOT NOW!” Richard bellowed, wanting to throttle whoever was daring to interrupt him when he close to reaching his climax.

 

“I’m sorry, Your Highness but your mother refuses to leave until she has spoken to you,” the groom outside explained, having the good decency to sound embarrassed. He of course didn’t dare tell the Dowager Queen what her son was doing that could not be disturbed.

 

Just like that the spell was broken and Richard pushed the countess off of him, jumped off the bed and began to get dressed much to the bewilderment of the lady he had only seconds ago been making love to.

 

“Your Highness, what are you doing? Surely she can wait until we are finished,” the Countess of Shrewsbury protested, aghast that she was being spurned for the mother of her lover.

 

“If my mother needs to speak to me right away than it must be urgent,” Richard told her firmly. After all, it was unusual for his mother to seek him out instead of just sending him a note beforehand. And there was something unseemly about making his mother wait in his living room while he finished pleasuring his mistress just three doors down from where she was.

 

“My lord, are you really going to leave me for your _mother_?” Anne Hastings protested, sounding dismayed and shocked that he would do such a thing.

 

Richard stopped buttoning his doublet, stiffing as he turned to glare at her, taking umbrage to her tone. “At least my mother is not a whore who would give herself to any man who would give her gifts in exchange for fucking her,” he snarled, finishing dressing and walking out of his bedchambers, shooting one last biting remark over his shoulder: “Tell your husband he may do as he likes for I want nothing more to do with you.”  With that, he slammed the door leaving his mistress naked and utterly humiliated in his bed.

* * *

 The Duke of York made sure he looked presentable before he walked into the chamber where his mother was waiting.

 

“Forgive me, Mother, if I have been keeping you long,” he apologized. “I was taking a nap.”

 

“Dickon, I am old not stupid,” Elizabeth admonished him with a ghost of a smile on her face but she quickly sobered after Richard had laid a kiss on her cheek. “I have heard some news from Elizabeth: she thinks she might be with child again.”

 

“Oh and isn’t that good news, Mother? Another grandchild for you to spoil,” Richard reminded her.

 

“If only it were that simple, Dickon. I love all my grandchildren, I do but I keep having this dream that I fear is foretelling the future,” Elizabeth explained, grasping his hand in hers, biting her lip as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

 

“What dream, Mother?” Richard asked, his eyes wide. He and his siblings knew of his mother and maternal grandmother sometimes prophetic dreams. While Edward and Thomas dismissed it as superstition, he had always believed that they could see the future even if it didn’t happen the way they saw it or perhaps it didn’t happen because they saw it and prevented it.

 

“I saw two great armies facing each other, one with the Tudor banner and the other with the York banner. The leader of the Yorkist army looked exactly like your father while the leader of the Tudor army had Elizabeth’s red hair,” Elizabeth explained. “The leader of the army of York swore he would reclaim what his cousin had stolen and would make him pay for his crimes of murdering his own uncle. Then Elizabeth’s son shouted that he would make sure that his cousin would share his father’s fate and he called for his men to fight for the true King of England.”

 

“How does the dream end, Mother?” Richard inquired, feeling sick to his stomach knowing that one day, his nephews would harm their uncle and cousins. God, could Elizabeth really have given birth to a murderous usurper who would do anything he could to take the throne for himself including killing his own flesh and blood.

“When the battle starts, I wake up,” Elizabeth answered, tears shining in her eyes. “I am afraid that I won’t be here to protect Edward from Henry Tudor or from this future from happening so I need you to promise me that you will do everything you can to protect Edward and his sons from any threat that might come their way.”

 

“Mother, I give you my word that I shall do everything in my power to protect my brother’s legacy even against those he believes are his friends,” Richard assured her firmly before hugging her. A few moments of silence passed before he spoke again, a slight tremor to his voice. “Mother, what do you mean you won’t be here to protect Edward? Where else would you be?” he whispered, knowing full well what the answer would be but desperately hoping it wasn’t true.

 

Elizabeth reached out to cup his face, stroking his cheeks lovingly. “Oh, my sweet darling boy, I’m afraid I won’t be here for much longer. By next July, I’ll have died,” she told him softly.

 

“No, Mother, you can’t die. I won’t let you,” Richard said, pulling away from her and turning around so she could not see his devastated expression.

 

“If only it was that easy. I’m afraid that my time on Earth is almost up,” Elizabeth said gently. “But yours is just beginning. I know you will have a long life, protecting those who endanger your father and brother’s legacy.”

 

Richard didn’t know what to say to that. On one hand, the idea that his mother would die in less than a year was terrible and knowing he had to prevent what she had foreseen without her help was a daunting task he wasn’t sure he was up for.

 

However, it touched him that she had so much faith in him and his conflicted feelings soon became determination.

 

“I swear to you, Mother, whatever it takes, I shall fight until my dying breath to protect my father’s dynasty,” Richard assured her. “I won’t let you down.”

 

Elizabeth took his hands in hers and kissed his knuckles. “I know you won’t.”

* * *

Meanwhile, blissfully unaware of what was going on in his brother’s apartments, Edward was in his audience chamber, having summoned Henry to come see him, trying to keep a smile off his face.

  
“His Grace the Duke of Richmond,” his herald announced before leaving the two men alone together.

 

“Henry, I hear that there are congratulations in order,” Edward remarked, causing the older man to chuckle.

 

“And here I was, just about to say the same to you,” Henry said, allowing a smile on his face. “Elizabeth was thrilled when you learned of your news. I guess neither of our wives could keep it a secret when they started to suspect the other might be pregnant too.”

 

In fact, according to Elizabeth, Eleanor had wanted to tell Edward on his birthday that she was pregnant but she felt it wouldn’t be fair to keep her news longer than Elizabeth would keep it from her husband.

 

“Not to mention, they will be giving birth around the same time as well,” Edward pointed out. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was destiny that his second child would be born about a month give or take a week or two before his cousin. Perhaps it would mean that they would be the best of friends. Charles had once insisted that it was destiny that had driven Edward to France where he would meet someone who understood what he was going through (most of it anyway). Perhaps the same could be sad of his son---or daughter.

 

“Either way, I promise if it is a boy, I shall name him Edward this time,” Henry assured him.

 

“Even if I name my son Richard?” Edward inquired sheepishly, just a little bit sheepishly. He had been adamant that he would name his son not only after his younger brother but also after his older half-brother who had been executed.

 

“Of course I will. You can name your son whatever you want,” Henry replied after a moment of hesitation, keeping his expression perfectly bland but Edward could swear he saw just a little disappointment in his eyes.  “After all, all that would matter is he’s as healthy as his sister. Now come, let’s drink to our good fortune.”

 

Edward grinned at him, feeling as pleased as he could be.  He could already picture the future where another York King sat on throne, his right-hand man and closest companion would be a Tudor just like their fathers before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richard is such a Momma's boy and Elizabeth really needs to learn the meaning of self-fufilling prophecy because she just kickstarted the whole shabang. Anyone want to make a guess what little details she seems to be overlooking.  
> I hope everyone liked the scene between Edward and Eleanor.  
> Also little did Edward know that his unborn son's (spoiler alert but really like I was going to let Lady Margaret continue to gloat) best friend had already been born.


End file.
